Ambassador to Nowhere
by AwfulLawful
Summary: After the episode 'The Book of Khartoum' in the animated series, Mozenrath is left powerless, helpless and hopeless. He is found at his worst possible moment by Slave Traders. Life goes haywire from there. Features many Original Characters, Disturbing imagery and Themes, and above all else this is SLASH. Please don't read it if you don't like it.
1. Lost and Found

Hello everyone.

This is a story I wrote years ago, under a different pen name; Suzunomiko. I had far more time for planning, revising and editing back then. As such the writing is a better quality than my more recent works. The storyline itself, however, reflects my age at the time and isn't as well done as I would like. I have decided against rewriting this tale; instead I am posting it here and plan on writing the sequel with a much better storyline as soon as I finish Harry Potter and the Last True Pure Blood.

Many of the things I have stated I don't like in creature fics are here, because I was still learning the ins and outs of my writing style and hadn't quite matured enough to get past an obsession with rampant angst. In addition; Disney seriously screwed with the inherent feeling of the Aladdin story to begin with; most prominent of which was the fact that he was originally Chinese and had two Djinn. Horrible inaccuracies are a given when working with Disney no matter what. The series itself, which this is based on, includes things much more ridiculous than this fanfic. One of which was a gigantic pink dancing rhinoceros wearing magic shoes.

Still, I consider this one of my best works and have decided to continue it since only Part 1 of the entire storyline was finished. It is being posted again here, where my new stories are located, and deleted from my old account. It's simply easier to keep track of one account rather than trying to keep track of updates on two. So, if someone is reading this for the second time because it is being posted again I apologize.

Some small things have been fixed, such as spelling and grammar mistakes. I would like to keep this as accurate to the original as possible though, so I have not changed the story inconsistencies and out of character moments. Out of respect for I have censored the worst bits - the full story will be available in all its nasty, torturous, sexy detail on . My user name is the same.

Until all 21 chapters are here I'll be uploading one chapter per day, to give everyone time to read it through. And as per my new norm, I shall add a quote to the beginning of each chapter if I remember.

Please let me know what you think.

Love,

AwfulLawful

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_"Being a wizard gives you more power than most, but it doesn't change your heart. We're all human. We're all of us equally naked before the jaws of pain." ~Jim Butcher_

Mozenrath sat slumped with his back against the wall, glaring contemplatively at the rubble of the once magnificent dome ceiling. He sighed for the thousandth time that night, absently toeing the remains all around him. He should have been ranting and raving his frustration to the uncaring and unsympathetic stones of the Citadel and surrounding dunes of black sand, but he simply didn't have the inclination to do such a useless and altogether pointless thing at the moment. He had screwed up, again, and it was all his fault.

It would be so easy to blame his misfortune in forging the Sorcerer's Stone on Aladdin, the street rat who would be hero, but it would do him no good now would it? Khartoum would have stolen the stone anyway even if Aladdin hadn't shown up to save his pathetic Djinn and his brutish green female companion.

Mozenrath lifted his gauntleted hand and stared. It had felt odd when he had been hit by that blast. Like an peculiar combination of a weak sleeping potion and that tingly feeling when you hit your elbow too hard. He remembered the panicked rush when he had realized he couldn't make his blue-black fire come forth, and shuddered.

Mozenrath knew very well that if the street rat hadn't come for them he himself may have lost his life as well as his power to the monster. It was a disturbing thought. Disturbing enough to keep him thoughtfully propped up on the floor to sulk.

He sighed again, the sound beginning to annoy himself as well as Xerxes, who floated lazily in circles over his master's head. This was pointless. Mozenrath picked up a rather heavy piece of rubble and hurled it at Xerxes in an unprovoked fit of anger. The familiar hissed in indignation before flying away at an impressive speed, trying to put distance between him and Mozenrath. The sorcerer watched his familiar fly away and out the door. It wasn't until a few moments later that the image registered in his numb mind and he scowled.

"Fine, then! Go! No doubt you've better things to do than serve a powerless master, you worthless flying eel! Find someone else to handicap with your incompetence! GO!" he raged, throwing more bits of rubble pointlessly at the open doorway.

After thoroughly wearing himself out on that fruitless little tantrum, he slumped back into his former place against the wall. He sighed yet again, then angrily slapped himself for it. The sound and sting made him marginally more composed, and he leaned his head back against the crumbling plaster to think.

There had to be some way of regaining his power. There was always a way. His mind immediately went through it's mental library of magical items, spells, hexes, enchantments and texts in varying languages.

He found nothing in his memory he could use for such a task. A visit to the libraries may be of some use. Perhaps. But if there had been a way to gain so much power all at once he would have researched and attempted it by now. He would remember if such an endeavor had been successful.

Mozenrath put his face in his hands, breathing deep in an effort to keep calm. There had to be a way. There just had to be. He flexed his gauntleted hand and furrowed his brow in consternation. It felt... different. He did it again and sat up straight in a panic.

He couldn't feel the connection anymore!

He whipped the gauntlet off and felt no sting of pain for the action, no reprimand for denying the thing it's feast upon the energies and flesh of his body.

Nothing.

It was just a leather gauntlet now.

Nothing more than that.

Growling he thrust it back upon his bones and stood, attempting to bring forth the magic he knew was locked within him.

He felt a small warmth, but it was gone almost before it had started.

Mozenrath knees went weak, and he collapsed.

He had truly lost his power. His eyes stung, and he reached up in a daze to rub the pain away. He almost didn't know what it was when his fingers came back wet. It had been so long since he'd cried. The sensation was utterly foreign to him, and it only served to confuse him further. He yelled. Long and loud. The sound echoed off the walls, it's desperate and defeated air permeated every iota of the surrounding atmosphere.

In a fit of indescribable emotion, he wrenched the gauntlet off and hurled it across the debris-laden room. It made a dull sound as it hit the crumbling plaster and slid to the floor. Mozenrath stared at it a moment, his usually pale cheeks flushed from his adrenaline rush, tears staining his face.

_I need to think._

He took several deep breaths, bracing his hands on the floor to keep his balance properly. Wiping the moisture from his face, he stood and walked from the room. Hall after hall passed him as he strode determinedly toward the main gate. He didn't even flinch as his boots encountered the disintegrated remains of his Mamluks. He simply kicked it aside, scattering the grey dust all over the floors.

_I need to relax. I just need a break... then I can think._

Desperate for any kind of distraction, he stormed out the front doors, his cape billowing out impressively behind him. He walked at a furious pace, heart racing within minutes. It had been a long time since he'd exerted himself so much. Mozenrath refused to acknowledge the fact that his legs and lungs burned, that his head was pounding painfully in sync with his heart. All he could think of was that he had to regain his power somehow.

He groaned with the unfairness of it, picking up speed. He was now kicking up sand as he went. He didn't even notice when he passed the boundaries of his kingdom, where the sand changed color in an instant and the sun broke through to shine down in all its strength the instant you passed the line. Mozenrath paused, looking back.

This place never ceased to amaze him, no matter how many times he had seen it. Once you passed the line where the sand turned golden, you could see blue from horizon to horizon. But when you stepped back onto the black sand, the sky went black as far as you could see. He chuckled minutely, planting one foot on the gold sand, and one on his own black sand. The sky swirled colors, looking as if a black miasma was fighting the sun for dominance of the sky. It was beautiful, and terrifying at once. He frowned, stepping back onto the gold desert sand. Like lighting a candle suddenly the sky turned a cheerful blue once more, and he sighed.

Mozenrath started off at a run, infuriated once again now that his moment of interest in the sky had passed. He didn't look where he was going, not really caring where he ended up at this point. His lungs burned relentlessly, but it only fueled his depression, fueled his desire to run. And he did run.

It wasn't until he had to force himself to take step after horribly agonizing step that he allowed himself to collapse in exhaustion upon the hot sand. He didn't even have the strength to cry out as he hit and the sand seared the flesh on his face. Mozenrath panted, his chest aching and heart racing in his ears. It may sound odd, but he felt better. The pain he was feeling now was akin to the amount that he endured when the gauntlet fed on his life energy, and it comforted him because it was familiar to him.

He had barely caught his breath when a hand grabbed him roughly from behind. He made a rather undignified squeak of surprise as he was hauled up and held over the sand by at least a head of height. He blinked bleary and red eyes open to glare at his captor, not afraid at all even though he knew he had no chance of defeating someone so very large without his power.

"Well, what's this pretty little thing here?" the man mocked in a deep, gravelly voice.

Mozenrath's eyes widened at the sight of him, causing the man to grin. He was enormous. At least two heads taller than Mozenrath, with bulging muscles that bore many scars of battle. Everything on this man was thick and rock-hard, even his face. His neck was as thick as Mozenrath's waist, and it was at that thought that Mozenrath realized that just one of the man's hands was wrapped completely around his waist holding him up. The man's hair was short and spiked, black with tips of blood-red. His nails and teeth had been sharpened into points, giving him a look that was akin to the carvings and depictions of demons of fire from his library. He was dressed in street clothes, but they were of a material that not many could afford. He even had shoes of leather.

"What are you doing all alone all the way out here, pet?" he asked, almost purring. His hand tightened when Mozenrath scowled at him, making him want to yelp. He held it back carefully.

"My name is not 'Pet', and unhand me." he ordered with all the ferocity he could muster. It wasn't much, his throat was parched from running so long under the punishing desert sun. The man laughed, and Mozenrath found himself on the ground, set down easily. He stood with all of his posture, facing the man.

"Sounds like you need a drink." he said, offering his water skin.

Mozenrath looked suspiciously at it. He was indeed thirsty, but he knew better than to take unknown liquids from strangers. Especially strangers that appeared so undeniably vicious. "No thank you." he said as politely as he could manage in his current mood. The man smiled at him, looking very predatory.

"But, if you don't drink, little one," he growled, "you will not survive long."

Mozenrath lifted an eyebrow quizzically. "What do you mean? My home is near. I can get back on my own. Now if you don't mind, I'll be on my way." Mozenrath turned to leave, but that hand wrapped around his waist once more, pulling him up. He profanely shouted his protest to such rough treatment, but soon found that to be a big mistake. The hand squeezed, pressing his insides painfully. He refused to scream though. He would never scream.

The man laughed, a barking, evil sound. "I don't think you understand, little one." he growled again. "You are mine, now. I will decide your home."

It was then, when the man turned around and took Mozenrath with him, that he saw them. Carriages. Carriages lined with thick metal bars and securely riveted in place around the solid ebony wood planks. The dirty and bruised faces of children, women and young men peering out at him fearfully. A slave trader. He had gone and went too far from his home. Mozenrath struggled, knowing that if he did not get free now, while he could still run, then he wouldn't get free at all until he could come up with some kind of plan. The hand squeezed him again, and he yelped in pain, all the air forced from his chest.

"You have two choices. You can obey me, or you can die. Either way I'll have fun with you, little one. Now, I want you to be a good little thing and sit with me up front. I suspect you're a mite smarter than the rest of the cargo." he grinned. Once they got to the head of the line he laughed and held the no longer struggling wizard as if to say 'look what I've got'. The other men, not so burly but just as menacing, cheered and laughed at their leader's pretty new prize. He was a trophy now. At least until he found a way to escape.

The man climbed up onto the lead carriage, settling Mozenrath on his lap. The wizard growled, furious at this embarrassing situation, but that hand once again snaked around him from the front, not squeezing hard enough to hurt, but certainly enough to keep him in his place and quiet. He took a breath to calm himself. This was nothing to worry about. He may not have his magic anymore, but he was a tactical genius if he didn't say so himself. He'd find a way out sooner or later, and when he did this man would pay dearly for this humiliation.

With a snap of the reigns, the horses bolted off, taking the carriages and their passengers through the desert at breakneck speed. The suddenness of it startled Mozenrath, and before he could stop himself he had grabbed onto that giant hand for support. The man chuckled and he let go, furious at himself. Well, now he knew why the carriages were made of ebony. No other wood would have been able to hold together at such a fast pace, especially under so much strain with so many people inside each one. Expensive to say the least, but a reasonably good investment for any successful slave trader.

This man was no fool.

"What about my drink?" he demanded audaciously, leaning his head back to look up at the man. He felt that pressure again, but this time it didn't stop, and Mozenrath soon found himself whimpering in pain, unable to breathe. The quick constriction at the end followed by the immediate release told him he was being entirely too bold. He caught his breath, a hand over his mouth and nose too keep the sand out of his air passages as he gasped.

"You will drink when I say, pet. Not before." was the harsh reply.

Mozenrath's eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue smartly, not wanting another reprimand like the last. He remained silent until night fell. The men made their camp, fed their 'cargo' a meager meal with little more than enough water to live on, and sat around to tell their exaggerated tales of captures past and present.

Mozenrath was apparently worth more than the others, as he was still held tightly in the leader's hands at all times. He was permitted more fare than the rest of the leader's men even, and he soon found himself comfortably full and sitting by the fire with the traders. Given a better view of them, Mozenrath was able to learn more about them by listening to their conversations. Soon he knew their names, and mentally ticked them off in their circle going from left to right.

The one to his immediate left was the smallest, but one of the strongest. He went by the name Sly. He was by no means thin, but rather a short man with a lot of muscle. Though all the men carried weapons and whips to punish the slaves, he was the only one that held a whip with metal spikes embedded in the thick leather. The slaves feared him no less than the leader, who had apparently been known to squeeze those that misbehaved until blood spurted from their mouths.

Next was a larger, but not so muscular man by the name of Hilgerd. He was taller than all but the leader, but not so muscular as any of them by far. He was the most ruthless though, and had killed a young girl earlier that day for biting him when he forced a kiss on her. Mozenrath shuddered at the memory of her screams. He had ripped her insides out with his bare hands, his nails were also filed into sharp claws. The leader had admonished him for it, but no real punishment was earned. Misbehavior was not tolerated at all.

Beside Hilgerd sat a man very similar in size and build as the leader. He was second in command, called Rorek. Rorek was the leader's younger brother, and matched him in all ways but one, his hair tips were tinted blue, not red. At his back was a girl he'd been carting around as the leader had been carrying Mozenrath, and she attended his every need with enthusiasm. Mozenrath had heard her called Morda. It was obvious she was important to Rorek, but still a slave. If she misbehaved she would be punished cruelly as all the others. Seeing this Mozenrath made a note to control himself. He didn't really fancy being disemboweled.

Rorek was chatting with the man beside him, referring to him as Bogarth. He was filled out, and as large as all the rest, but not so defined in build. Bogarth obviously fancied young boys, and currently had four of them massaging his shoulders, arms and legs while another fed him pieces of meat with his little fingers. They were all thin, and had lightly colored hair. He pulled one across his lap and petted him while he talked, ignoring the frightened sound the child emitted.

Between Bogarth and the leader was a frighteningly silent and stolid man. No one had said his name. He was the dealer of the bunch, responsible for selling the cargo and carting off the corpses of those that died in the carriages from the heat. It didn't surprise Mozenrath that so many of them died in this heat, with no less than ten or fifteen in each carriage there was barely enough room to breathe. Apparently, it was their peak season for random captures, such as the wizard himself.

The leader was next. His name, which on its own scared Mozenrath even more, was Grim. He was the largest of them all, and had the deepest voice. In fact, Mozenrath had felt his skull shaking with the sheer volume of it when he spoke. It didn't help that he still had the wizard sitting on his lap. His head was right underneath the man's foul smelling mouth, making avoiding the booming voice difficult.

Mozenrath, on his part, was very intelligent and had not spoken since the frightening episode on the carriage. He had been mimicking the actions and posture of the other slaves, determined to stay alive until he was released from Grim's grasp long enough to escape. He endured his humiliations with ease, even when Grim had insisted on hand feeding the wizard his meal. Mozenrath was in dire need of nourishment and energy, so he allowed it, though grudgingly.

Grim's booming laughter... no, not laughter... guffawing, had succeeded in giving Mozenrath a terrible headache, and he groaned involuntarily. The chatter stopped, and all looked right at him. Mozenrath knew he had done something wrong. He looked around in fright, then looked up at Grim, who was grinning maliciously down at him.

"Looks like you've got a good one, there." Rorek chortled. Grim nodded as if the man had said something sagely.

"I think it's time for sleep." he barked at his men. They scattered to sleep beside their carriages, leaving Mozenrath alone with Grim. Grim chuckled without mirth down at Mozenrath. "Do you have any idea how pretty that sound you made was, little one?" he asked in a very familiar tone. Images of Disdain flashed through Mozenrath's mind, and he tried to recoil instinctively. Grim gripped him harder. "You are so very pretty, aren't you? That skin and your hair contrast, yet complement each other perfectly. Black on icy white..." he almost purred.

Mozenrath's eyes widened. He kicked out at the man's burly arm when his free hand went to grab one of his legs, but to no avail. Thin as he was, Mozenrath's leg fit in Grim's hand like a sword handle. Grim lifted that leg up high, forcing Mozenrath to lie across his lap on his back. One... just one of those sharpened fingers went to press the delicate organ between his thighs, and he gasped and struggled. the wizard was about to shout his dismay, but he remembered the constricting punishment from before and imagined if he were squeezed now. He whimpered, going still.

Grim chuckled. "I was right. You learn fast. Behave yourself, now. I would hate to kill such a pretty treasure..."


	2. Lost Self

The previous chapter is unsuitable for Fanfiction . net: Please see Adultfanfiction . net for the entire story if you are able to. My pen name is the same.

Warning for death ahead.

There is a catch to this tale. If you want to know about Mozenrath's past as it is in this story, you must read Bestia's magnificent narrative entitled "More than Meets the Eye". You will not fully understand this fic if you don't read hers.

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Mozenrath sat obediently on his master's lap, gratefully leaning into the petting he was being given for his reward. Tears rolled down his cheeks from the pain he was trying so hard to ignore so that he might take as much comfort from the petting as he possibly could. Of course, if you were to ask him now he would say his name was 'pet'... if you could get him to speak to you at all.

The slave traders known as Grim, Bogarth, Rorek, Hilgerd, Sly, and the one called Dealer also had another name. The Desert Hunters. It was their job to hunt down, capture and train pretty little things to be sold into the nearest royal's harem. They were the ones paid by royals to keep their harems full of nice little girls, beautiful women, and pretty young men... willing or not.

To keep their toys from trying to escape they had a failsafe that had been provided by the grateful wizard of a Sultan's court. He had given them a potion and the methods of producing it so they might have an unlimited supply. This potion acted as an immediate and permanent amnesia. Upon it's consumption all happy memories immediately faded, leaving it's victims clinging to the closest comfort they could find. That comfort being the occasional rewards of good behavior given them by the slave traders. Even if that reward was a simple pat on the head it was still better than anything they could remember, and they associated comfort and pleasure with their rewards. Most were willing to do almost anything to be rewarded, even if what they had to do was inhumanely degrading and agonizingly painful.

Grim was discovering with no small amount of amusement that his little pet was nearly immune to this potion. After all it had been designed for stray street urchins, not fellow wizards. However it was not so much that it was not affecting Mozenrath at all, he simply had a distinct lack of happy memories to erase. Mozenrath still had to be subjugated before sale though, and they had forced a double dose of the foul liquid down his throat three times at least. Under such strong amounts of the potion his mildly unhappy memories had begun to disappear, as he had ones that were so much worse that could remain.

Specific facts would disappear as well as memories. Things such as names and dates, ages, and the knowledge of things he had learned how to do such as read and write. His ability to read and write had not gone, but he would not know that he was able to do it until he was given the chance to try. Even things he had nightmares about were starting to disappear, leaving the horrid things he'd thought he had forgotten to dig their way out of his subconscious to come forth and torment him at night.

He could no longer remember the name Disdain, though he clearly recalled the pain and suffering that had been associated with that name when he tried to remember. It was because of this pain that he had stopped trying. He may not have been in his right mind, but he was still a very intelligent youth... and if trying to remember things that had hurt him in the past caused him even more suffering, then there was clearly no motive that he could think of that should cause him to continue.

Currently though he was weeping softly in the lap of Grim, upset because he could not seem to recall his own name. It was on the tip of his tongue, he knew it, but no matter what he would not remember it until he had heard it again. He sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve and drying his tears. Grim smiled at the sound. His little pet was so very miserable, and it was making the cruel trader very happy indeed. Mozenrath had been in the company of the traders for over a month now. His 'training' was progressing perfectly according to the cruel man. Mozenrath was now willing to do anything to please his master and avoid punishment.

It was these punishments that kept him clinging to Grim so desperately. He now fully understood that the source of his pain was the only thing that could alleviate it, and so he obeyed quickly when ordered. The punishments included beatings, starvation, humiliation (so many possibilities lie there that he dared not even think about it) and one invented specially for Mozenrath. When he became too haughty or hesitated too long, Grim would grab hold of his skeletal hand and squeeze until the bones groaned with the pressure. It was so agonizing for Mozenrath that he had fainted from it twice.

He hadn't been punished for days, the only thing that would earn him punishment now was a lapse in judgment, as he had fully learned how he was supposed to behave. Mozenrath was now fully trained. The only thing now was to find a proper buyer. They had passed a few palaces and all had tried to purchase Mozenrath from Grim, sometimes willing to fight over it for hours on end, but none seemed willing to offer the price he wanted for his perfect little treasure. One guard had even tried to steal him. That guard had not lived long.

The pale form shifted, uncomfortably hot under the blanket that was draped over him to keep the harsh sun from darkening his flawless white skin. He no longer wore his cloths. Only the sash had been kept. Grim thought that shade of red complimented him. It was all that remained of his dark blue and black finery. He was now garbed in nothing more then a long, black shirt that rode just to his mid thighs. The sash was wrapped tightly around his tiny waist to show it off, as that seemed to be one of Grim's favorite parts of his treasure's body. That and his pretty, pretty white skin.

Mozenrath was not only miserable, but he was also in pain. He had been forced to swallow so much of that horrid potion that the amount of acid in it had become clear. The rim of his mouth had begun to burn from the acid, making it difficult to open his mouth more than he needed to eat and drink. He could no longer speak because his throat was so sore, and his stomach seemed to be unwilling to let him sleep peacefully, making him rise again and again at all hours of the night with sickness.

That was why Grim had stopped giving him the potion recently. It was clear his pet would die if he had to take any more, and he needed the money from this sale. Mozenrath had begun to recover from the effects of the acid, but all he had forgotten was gone forever. All he knew for certain was this: His name was 'Pet', Grim was his master, and if he wanted to get rewards he would have to do what he was told. No other options lay open to him, and he wanted so much to please his master. Then perhaps he would be allowed to rest. If only for a little while.

Some of his memories had survived, but certainly not ones he would like to know. Had he known the potion would make them go away if he swallowed more he would have killed himself trying to take it. When he wasn't being woken by his stomach, nightmares plagued what little sleep he still had. Echoed moans of a man's voice whispering "Little Kitten" accompanied by severe pain in the physical and emotional sense made him wake in a cold sweat night after night. If he had the ability to scream, he would have. So long as it didn't upset his master, that is.

It was dark now, and the traders pulled on their reigns. The great black horses whinnied in relief as they stopped to rest for the night. Grim set his reigns aside and Mozenrath immediately climbed down off of his lap and folded the blanket he'd been wearing over himself to block out the sun and set it aside. While the men made their campfires Mozenrath crouched down and kneeled by the carriage, obediently waiting for his master to call him for their nightly 'training'.

Now it was not so unusual for Mozenrath to be left on his own on occasion. The first time he had been awarded a chance like this he still had not been subjected to the memory erasing potion, and had tried to escape. He shuddered. That had been one of the memories he retained. Mozenrath clearly knew of the punishments he had endured because of his attempted escape, but for the life of him couldn't place why he had even bothered to try. He would never try to run again.

Grim called out for him and he rose from his knees, bowing his head as he heeded the order. Mozenrath gasped and tensed as the big man pulled him into his lap, knowing that pleased his master. He would be held whether he wanted to or not, and he was always supposed to act like he didn't want to be. The traders were all gathered around the central fire as they did every night to tell stories and eat. Tonight there was plenty, as there had been last night.

They had passed by an oasis the day before last, and all had lots of fruit and a few pieces of meat to fill their normally empty bellies, even the slaves. Mozenrath himself was given the softest and sweetest fruit by Grim to ease his sore throat. He took it gratefully, tears of joy falling from his eyes as the pain in his throat lessened bit by bit with each small piece he was awarded. Swallowing still hurt, but at least he could breath properly again. He didn't even mind the kisses his master was demanding as payment for each bite.

Bogarth made one of his toys scream and it startled Mozenrath so that he jumped in fear, clinging to Grim's gigantic hand tightly. Grim laughed and tightened his grip on the trembling form slightly to reassure him. Even as the boy continued his screams Mozenrath relaxed. His master was not angry with him, so he had no reason to be upset. Another bit of fruit was placed to his lips and he opened his mouth to receive it, but it was pulled back.

_...right, the kiss..._

Mozenrath whimpered in apology and leaned up to place a kiss on Grim's chin, but he was stopped. He blinked up at the man in confusion. What was he to do now? Grim tapped a finger to his lips and smiled. Mozenrath's eyes widened, but he knew better than to hesitate. He shifted to reach better and placed a kiss on the man's lips. This he had never been told to do before, but he had suspected it would be coming soon. Seeing all the other men kissing their toys all the time had gotten Mozenrath wondering why he was not being kissed, and had started a fear in him that he must have been displeasing his master somehow. Now that he was included in this ritual it made him feel marginally safer.

The moment his lips made contact one of those great hands grabbed his hair and angled his head back. Mozenrath let out a strangled cry as Grim's lips parted and he forced his tongue inside the smaller man's mouth. Mozenrath didn't want to anger Grim, but he'd had to open his mouth wide for that, and his sores had split open on the sides of his mouth. Grim didn't seem to mind though, and thrust his tongue in deeper, exploring Mozenrath's entire mouth languidly.

When he pulled away there was a steady stream of blood coming from the corners of Mozenrath's mouth and he chuckled and licked them away. Mozenrath's tears pleased him, and he gave him an entire fruit to enjoy on his own as reward, petting him as well. He either didn't notice or didn't care that his treasure's mouth hurt so much that he had to tear the fruit into tiny pieces with his bone fingers to eat it.

The fire had died down and the rest of the traders all gone to sleep. The only company they had now was the boy Bogarth had left behind in a bloody unconscious heap near the flames. Grim lifted Mozenrath and got up to get the boy, setting Mozenrath back down so he could finish his treat. Grim circled the child a moment, then reached down and picked him up by his hair.

Mozenrath assessed that he couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve, but that's all he could see. The boy was so covered in blood that he could have had green skin and you wouldn't be able to tell. Grim frowned, listening to the liquid quality to the boy's breathing. He wouldn't survive the night. Grim sighed, exasperated, and took hold of the boy's chest with his free hand. Mozenrath dropped his fruit in the sand and covered his face with his hands as Grim twisted his wrists and snapped the child's neck with a loud CRACK.

Mozenrath heard the body hit the ground and scrambled off his seat and against the carriage behind him, crying fitfully from what he had just seen. Grim was picking him up soon afterward, and he thrashed about in a panic, shrieking as loud as his damaged throat would let him. Grim caught all his limbs and pulled him into a tight constricting hug.

"Stop that." Grim ordered sharply.

Mozenrath immediately went limp and stopped his terrified, though very weak and raspy cries. His chest still heaved with panicked breaths and he cried small rivers of tears that soaked his face and a small part of the front of his shirt. The only thing that stopped his horrified convulsions was the tight grip that Grim had on him at that moment.

"Would you rather I let him lay there all night and die slow, Pet?" he asked, growling.

Mozenrath cringed and shook his head, trying to calm himself. Allah help him if he made his Master mad. Grim nodded and set Mozenrath back on their seat near the fire, handing him his fruit. He used one of his claws to flick away the sand and moved back to the corpse of the boy, tossing it into the shadows nearby. When he turned back Mozenrath was still trembling and crying, and hadn't touched his food.

"Eat that, Pet. We're coming to a palace tomorrow that may be able to afford you."

Mozenrath winced and did as he was told. Master did not sound happy. He hadn't heard that tone in Grim's voice since that time he had tried to escape, and didn't think he would survive another night like that. He took a few deep breaths and stemmed his tears, taking small bites from the sweet fruit. It made him feel marginally better, and he finished it within an hour... quickly considering the size of the bites he had to take.

He looked around for his master drowsily, wondering when their 'training' would begin. He was tired, and wanted to sleep soon. Not that it was his choice. His eyes widened when he realized Grim was nowhere to be seen. Eyes scanning the area frantically, he jumped and made a squeak when Dealer came from the shadows, carrying the red and dripping body of the little boy away from the camp to bury it, muttering about Bogarth and his nasty hobbies. Mozenrath knew he wasn't supposed to move from his spot, so he leaned away and curled up when Dealer walked by him, snarling in his direction.

He was still trembling from that encounter when Grim came back around, carrying some of Bogarth's gold with him. He'd been made to pay for the boy he'd killed, and would be in a sour mood tomorrow because of it. Mozenrath made a note to avoid him if he could, as Grim's treasures were always the ones to pay when one of the traders was upset with him. Grim stuck the coins in his pocket and lay next to the fire on his blanket, grunting a command for Mozenrath to come.

Praying that he was not in too foul a mood, he shakily crawled over and tensed when Grim pulled him in to lie next to him. Mozenrath let a confused whimper out and Grim grunted in response.

"No training tonight, pet. Go to sleep."

Immensely grateful, Mozenrath closed his exhausted eyes. Hopefully the nightmares wouldn't be too bad tonight.


	3. The Demon Sultan

And he begins to get a little of his spark back.

* * *

Mozenrath yelped as he was roughly grasped about the waist with a very familiar giant hand and picked up off the ground in a painfully tight grip. The sudden rise made him lightheaded, and he groaned because of it. Groggy and feverish, he opened his eyes and looked up into the angry face of his master, Grim. Not only had he woken his master twice last night, once with a nightmare and the other with his recent fever, but now he had slept in too long as well. Master was obviously not happy with him.

"Come, Pet." he spat furiously, tightening his grip until Mozenrath whined with the pain.

Grim let go suddenly and quite literally dropped Mozenrath a good three feet upon the hot sand. He scrambled to his feet quickly as he could and folded the blankets he'd shared with the man last night, carrying the overly large bundles to the carriage and packing them away neatly. His overdue task completed, he followed Grim as he walked around the carriage, checking the locks and bars in his morning escape prevention round.

Mozenrath kept his posture submissive, arms wrapped around his torso and not quite standing with his head and back bowed low. In this position he knew from experience that any blows would be administered to his back and not his head or limbs. It was quite a bit safer, and kept his bones unbroken, at least until he was tied down. Mozenrath knew very well that he was in trouble for being such a nuisance last night, and prayed that his punishments would not be too severe. If he was lucky he might escape with a simple beating and low rations for the next few days instead of another agonizingly harsh 'training' session.

He winced, thinking of the training he'd endured so far. Night after night he was forced over the edge so many times that he could scarcely breathe anymore and his chest felt full of boiling water. His skin burned as if it were on fire and his heart threatened to burst right out of his chest. He had even discovered that he could feel the miniscule veins that wove through his bone hand pulsing if he held on to his climax long enough. The discovery was mildly entertaining, until he faltered in his performance.

The punishments were as follows; If he fainted he would be beaten. If he let himself come too soon or held on after he was told to come then he would be forced to come over and over again until he got it right. If he screamed and/or struggled too much or not enough he would find himself on his front, tied to stakes while the other traders played with him for hours on end while his master sat by and watched him closely. He would only be released when Grim was satisfied with him again.

It was this punishment he feared the most. Grim made it a point never to enter Mozenrath's body because he would have permanently damaged him with his sheer length and girth, and it would make him worth less when it came time to sell. He did not however, have any problems allowing his brother and the others have him. No problems at all.

He had come to realize during his training, that he was indeed beautiful. Mozenrath couldn't quite remember why he had believed himself to be ugly, but he knew that he had a long time ago. He was his master's treasure, in fact. In the months he had spent with the traders he had been treated better than any of the other poor creatures that had come and gone, and of them he was the only one that remained for any long period of time. It was almost as if Grim was intent on keeping him forever, yet still willing to show him off as a symbol of the work in procuring pretty things that his team did so very well.

It had been too much to bear for the first few weeks. The strain on his body and mind had been so intense that he had considered killing himself more than once. He had come so close to it on several occasions, when Grim had carelessly left a knife setting where he could get to it easily. He'd even held the knife to his flesh wrist and drawn the blade over it until a red line could be seen and repeated the action several times until he looked as if he'd gotten into a fight with an angry cat. He could never press on the blade though. He just wasn't brave enough to do that.

Mozenrath snapped back to reality as the morning meal was passed out among the men and their cargo. The fruit was gone, and Mozenrath's sore throat was his own problem now. He looked forlornly at the hard bread he had been given and ate it slowly, stopping every once in a while to make sure he would not be sick. That would make Master very unhappy indeed. Especially after what he had put him through last night.

Normally his punishment would have been immediately forthcoming, but this morning the camp was in a frantic tizzy. Grim seemed to have completely forgotten about him in his rush to get everything ready. Everyone was fed, packed and ready to move in record time. He had never seen the traders so anxious to be under way. They had been frantic before, but it was out of pure excitement because they were nearing one of their trading ports. This was a combination of that excitement and another emotion that Mozenrath couldn't quite place. They all looked angry, but they radiated anxiousness and fear.

Even the slaves knew that something was up. The women held the children close to them, trying to stifle their cries even though it was a fruitless endeavor seeing as how the women cried even louder. The young men kept to themselves with silent looks of horror and hopelessness in their eyes. Mostly there was a somber silence in the carriages, as the slaves knew that they might possibly be bought by a kind master, or at the very least one that kept his slaves healthy. There was always that underlying hope that somehow they might escape death in the desert from dehydration and heat exhaustion within the constricting carriages of the Desert Hunters.

There was none of that today. All were behaving as if they were being carted away to their deaths. Tales of the 'Demon King' they had heard of spun wildly between the carriages. They were nearing the area where said king was supposed to rule. The tales seemed ridiculously outlandish and fake, but it was making the already ill and frightened Mozenrath even more uncomfortable, and he couldn't stop the tears or the tremors that kept running up his spine. He stifled his gasping breaths as he obediently climbed up into the lap of his master when bidden and pulled the blanket over himself, not wanting to anger him any more than he already had.

Grim's hand snaked around his waist and held him tight, so tight that Mozenrath had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. He heard the snap of the reigns and the procession of carriages lurched forward toward their destination. Grim started humming to himself as they flew over the sand. It almost sounded as if he were trying to keep himself calm. Mozenrath took as deep a breath as he could with Grim holding him so firmly. If his master was afraid of something or someone at the next palace, it did not bode well for Mozenrath at all.

Mozenrath felt himself getting drowsy from his fever. Grim seemed to be ignoring him completely, and he was no longer sensing the anger from his master that he had no more than an hour ago. Perhaps he would not be admonished if he slept? He needed to rest through his fever, so he would not upset his master again later that night. Heeding his body's plea for sleep, Mozenrath allowed himself to drift off into a light and troubled slumber.

* * *

Yelling... why was everyone yelling? Mozenrath woke with a start to find himself laying under his blanket. He was covered in a cold sweat and it was a great relief to him that his fever had broken while he slept. Hearing voices that he didn't quite recognize, Mozenrath decided to take better stock of his surroundings. Tentatively he lifted a corner and peeked out, finding himself alone on the inside of his master's carriage. The carriage wasn't moving. Voices were floating in from between the bars of the door. Mozenrath was curious, and he crawled closer to the bars to hear.

"WHAT DO I PAY YOU FOR? YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY MEAN TO TELL ME THESE FOUL, UGLY BEASTS ARE THE EXTENT OF YOUR COLLECTION?"

Mozenrath cringed. That voice was not so deep as his master's, but there was something in it that he found extremely terrifying. It sent shivers down his spine and made him feel sick all over again. His master's voice came in meekly soon after. Mozenrath had never heard him speak that way. This buyer must have been the thing that had Grim so worried before.

"I... apologize, Sultan." Grim replied. "We have not had so good a year as last..."

"Judging by the shine of your dragon-hide boots I should say you have! There must be SOMETHING you have for me?"

The voice was still angry. It radiated malice and revulsion the way the sun radiated heat. It sounded frigid and deadly, not to mention that there was an almost magical quality about it's power, and Mozenrath found himself wondering how he knew it was magic in the first place. The argument continued, and the buyer grudgingly purchased most of the little girls, all of the little boys and young men, and two of the women. Grim accepted the Sultan's first offer for them even though it was much less than what they were all really worth. He seemed desperate to flee this kingdom and get away from the man.

Mozenrath heard Grim settle onto the carriage to leave and he risked a peek out the window. What he saw made him gasp in fear and admiration. The Sultan was beautiful beyond anything he had ever seen. He guessed that the man was a bit taller than him, and only slightly more filled in. His shimmery ice-blue hair fell in glorious waves down to the curve of his rear. His skin was as white as Mozenrath's, if not whiter and it glittered with the same crystalline pattern as his hair, as if he were covered from head to toe in miniature jewels.

Mozenrath's curiosity proved to be his bane today, and the Sultan caught the movement of a pretty thing in the carriage as he strained to see. He made a quick motion to his guards and the horses were halted by spears blocking their way. The Sultan sent an angry glare to Grim, and he moved to open the door of the carriage, at which point Mozenrath had scurried into the far corner and covered up with the blanket.

There was a loud groan of bending metal followed by the loud SNAP of it breaking. Mozenrath cried out, fearing any force strong enough to break steel locks. Through the blanket he could see the silhouette of a figure peering in at him through the newly opened door. Trembling, he pushed himself as far into the corner as he could possibly go as the figure reached out to him.

"Don't be afraid..." the Sultan's voice cooed. The magic in that voice soon took hold of Mozenrath and great wave of calm overtook him. Slowly he lowered a corner of the blanket to where a puff of his black curly hair and one of his eyes showed and he returned the curious look that was given him. He lowered the blanket to his neck when he saw those fiercely intelligent and powerful eyes... one icy blue and one midnight black.

Those eyes bored into his, obviously keenly interested in him. Pulling out a moment, the Sultan ordered Grim brought to him. Mozenrath heard the sound of his master's knees hitting the ground and the Sultan's voice taking on it's angry power once again.

"You lied to me, Grim."

"Sultan... that beast is insolent... and ill at the moment. I did not wish to insult you with him..." Grim's lame excuse came softly.

The Sultan chuckled, a dark and foreboding sound. He made a quick motion with his hand and one of the guards reached over to his dagger and pressed it to Grim's throat. The big man held perfectly still. Mozenrath had craned his neck to look over at his master. Seeing him about to be killed made him upset, and he whined softly in protest.

Turning back, the Sultan smiled at Mozenrath. "You wish me to spare him?" he purred.

Mozenrath looked over at the man who had tormented him so, but because of the potion he was also the only person he could remember making him feel appreciated, even in the tiniest bit. Instants of his training and punishments flashed momentarily, but were all replaced by the memories of his brief rewards. He could not let his Master die. Mozenrath turned back to the Sultan and gave him a teary stare. Slowly, he shook his head.

"Very well. Release him."

Grim was amazed that Mozenrath had spoken for him. He was not about to question his luck though, and soon was in his place at the front of the carriage once more. There was a brief talk between Grim and the Sultan, and soon Mozenrath found himself staring into those hypnotic eyes once more.

The Sultan smiled at him again and beckoned him forward, and he obeyed slowly, crawling on all fours and never losing eye contact. Mozenrath's mind was screaming at him to stop, but he was under the spell now and could only do what he was told by the Sultan. The man took his hand and helped him over the side, cupping his bottom as he did so. That broke the spell. Mozenrath whimpered and dropped down to his knees, covering his head with his hands.

It was then that the Sultan saw his skeletal hand.

Mozenrath gasped and cried out his pain when his bone hand was grabbed in an impossibly strong grip for the size of the man that administered it. He looked up to see the man looking his hand over, watching as the bones flexed as if they were still covered in flesh. Mozenrath saw how this interested the Sultan, and he wriggled his fingers for him. He grinned maliciously and met Mozenrath's eyes.

"I know who you were."

Those five words made something in Mozenrath rise and a word, one single word clicked in the back of his mind.

Demon.

Mozenrath had no idea how he knew, but he did and it made his very being recoil at the thought of this creature touching him. Fear gave way to anger and momentarily Mozenrath was thinking clearer than he had in months. Some defensive knowing urge boiled in his heart for only an instant before Mozenrath scowled at the thing holding his hand and he spat upon that shimmering white face.

The horrified gasps were unmistakable. Every remotely sane being that had witnessed the act looked startled that Mozenrath would dare do an insolent thing like that to such a frighteningly powerful man. The Sultan however, laughed merrily and licked the fluid from his lips.

"Oh, yes..." he purred. "You are magnificent. I'll have a wonderful time discovering your limits."

Mozenrath recoiled, fear once again taking over. That urge had completely disappeared, leaving him wondering what had possessed him to do such a stupid thing. The Sultan's hand cupped his face and made him meet his eyes once again, and that calm feeling returned. Mozenrath felt magic enter him through that gaze, and he felt so very warm that he momentarily wondered if he was being encouraged to sleep.

Distantly he heard Grim ordered to leave, and warm arms encased him. His own arms reached up and circled themselves about the Sultan's neck as he held Mozenrath gently, yet firmly. The tide had turned. This man was his master now, and he would do anything to feel these arms about him as often as he could.

* * *

What do we think so far? New chapter tomorrow.


	4. Domestic Violence

Previous chapter not suitable for Fanfiction . net - please see Adultfanfiction . net for naughty bits.

* * *

Aladdin was angry. Actually, that was the understatement of the millennium, even according to the immortal Djinn present at the 'royal rumble' as he so eloquently put it. Aladdin was furious... and his Sultana was only making it worse. Much, much worse.

"Aladdin, you can't just barge into a Kingdom that's so far away it hasn't even been recognized as a potential threat without warning and for no good reason!" Jasmine huffed, looking very much the superior mind in this argument. Aladdin was trying to face her down, trying desperately and with every ounce of his heart, but her royal logic seemed to block him at every possible turn. She was making it impossible for his common sense and human sympathy to get in a proper defense.

"But he's STARVING them to death! They're all dying of malnutrition and thirst while he himself has EXTENSIVE stocks of grain and FULL TO OVERFLOWING reservoirs of water behind his palace walls! You call THAT 'no good reason'?" Aladdin raged, reaching up to remove his turban and throw it at his throne in a miniature childish fit.

Jasmine sighed and retrieved it for him, having Genie hold him down while she set it back on his head properly. He really was being far too reckless and emotional over this. Six months ago Aladdin had sent out a spy to verify the nasty rumors that were circulating about this 'Demon King', and the spy had brought back horrible accounts of the living conditions of his people and slaves. Even his guards were treated like animals unless they were the perfect soldiers.

Aladdin knew he wasn't overreacting at all, and that if he wanted something done about it he would have to keep throwing a fit until Jasmine agreed to put the matter to committee. He had married into the throne, so even though he was the male and had all the cool titles and diplomatic responsibilities, only the blood-royal, namely Jasmine, could put anything up for discussion such as changing laws and declaring war or signing treaties. That's all Aladdin was anymore: a decoration to make the kingdom look good in the eyes of fellow countries so they wouldn't have to face the fact that a woman was ruling Agrabah.

He was just there for show.

With surprising strength brought on by his rage, Aladdin shoved both Jasmine and Genie off him with one powerful thrust. Jasmine pouted up at him from the floor, waving Rhazoul away before he got Aladdin any angrier than he was now. Genie nonchalantly snapped his fingers and deposited the annoying guard in the fountain outside.

"Aladdin, dear..." Jasmine sighed as she stood and brushed herself off, "...it's not our place to judge another ruler's methods of running his cities. There's just nothing we can do from here." Jasmine sympathized with the citizens, she really did... as much as a woman who had lived in a palace all her life and never experienced starvation and beatings from a cruel dictator possibly COULD sympathize. But it wasn't her city, and they weren't her people, so she had no lawful right to intervene. If she did it would cause a war, and her own citizens would suffer from it eventually.

Aladdin took a deep breath. He was tired of yelling, and he hated to be so rough with Jasmine and his friends, but he had no other choice if he wanted to help these people. They needed him. "Jasmine," he started in a much more composed voice, "His slaves are treated worse than any living creature should be. Every day bodies on top of bodies are carted out of his harem, which covers an entire quarter of his palace. They aren't even recognizable as human anymore. Some of them are beaten to a pulp, others are bled completely dry. Some are drowned and still others are in PIECES. One was even partially healed... she had partially closed stab wounds on every joint in her body, including all of her fingers and toes. After three days of suffering from that her throat was finally slit. She bled to death very, very slowly. Now can you honestly tell me that you still won't at least think about doing something... ANYTHING?"

Jasmine was repulsed by the descriptions... but all that had occurred to her was that he was trying to make her feel bad. She didn't even think for an instant that he was being serious.

"Aladdin! They're his SLAVES! He can do anything he wants with them, it's the LAW!"

The resounding slap made most present thank Allah that the burly guard had not been present, otherwise they would have had a very dead Sultan. Jasmine cupped her cheek in tears as Aladdin walked away from her. He paused in the doorway and looked back, crying as well.

"They're people, Jasmine. Just regular people like you and me. They may not be rich, or educated, or well BRED," he spat the word like a profanity, "...but they have souls and they feel pain just like we do. So before you decide to go all ROYAL on me, remember that, for a time, my mother was a slave."

And, leaving all in a state of general shock, pain and sympathy, the young Sultan of Agrabah left. They didn't know when he would be back.

Jasmine pulled her hand off her cheek and stared at it in disbelief. It didn't hurt anymore. He hadn't hit her very hard at all, but it had startled her because it had made a loud noise and, "He's never hit me before..."

Abu climbed up on her shoulder and cooed at her, touching her cheek with his clever little fingers and rubbing away the last of the sting. Iago flew to her other and simply sat there, looking very depressed.

"He's just upset, Jas." Genie consoled her. "And besides, you've hit him plenty of times before." He finished, suggesting that maybe she'd had it coming for a while now.

"I know..." she sniffed. "But it never occurred to me that he would hit me. He doesn't seem the type. He's not... I know he's not the type to hit... so why did he do it?"

Iago squawked angrily in her ear. "What do you mean, why?"

But Jasmine wasn't listening to him. She looked over at the bird with tears in her eyes and Iago found himself unable to yell at her anymore. "What's happening to us, Iago?" she begged.

"You were out of line, Sultana." he said cooly, refusing to use her name as he fluttered off her shoulder and hovered in the air. "It doesn't mean he doesn't love you. He's just starting to realize you don't think of people the same way he does."

Iago flew off after his friend, leaving the stupid monkey and the Djinn to pamper the Sultana in her 'time of need'. After all, Allah forbid SHE ever be upset about anything for more than an hour or so. The parrot soon located the Sultan sulking on the roof of the guest house, staring at his hand sullenly. As he perched onto his slumped shoulder Aladdin stirred and looked over at the bird with hot tears on his face. Iago sighed, knowing what was coming.

"Did I hurt her...?" he whispered, afraid of the answer. Iago shook his head. It was obvious that, rough as his street-hardened hands were, Aladdin hadn't even felt the impact.

"No, you didn't hurt her. Aladdin, I don't know why you're so damned patient with her! She's brave and loyal no doubt, but about as knowledgeable to the outside world as the monkey is to advanced calculus! I think you ought to take her over there and let her see with her own eyes what can happen when her philosophy of non-involvement is allowed to fester for centuries on end!" he squawked.

Aladdin bowed his head and started to cry again. He knew Iago was right, for once, but he just couldn't do that to Jasmine. It wasn't really her fault that she didn't know how it felt. If he did something so cruel to the Sultana, he knew beyond a doubt that she would never forgive him.

Iago groaned and sat there for a while, letting Aladdin think things through. When he'd had enough he nipped the boy's ear with his beak, demanding attention in the language of spoiled birds worldwide. Aladdin snickered and pulled Iago down into a hug, holding him for his own reassurance as much as the parrot's. They sat there for a long while, thinking their own thoughts until a soft cough came from the ground below.

They both leaned over and peered over the side of the roof to find the Sultana, dressed to kill in her palace best.

"I've just been from Committee." she said with a smile. "We should have an answer in three weeks. Now, come down here and join the rest of us for dinner."

She was beaming, once again the proud ruler of her city. She had also relented, and though Aladdin was still angry with her for being so sheltered, he also knew that it was in no way her fault. Sighing he wiped the wetness from his face and let Iago fly down on his own. He hopped off the roof and stood by his Sultana's side almost reluctantly.

"Alright... thanks."


	5. Little Kitten Returns

Reminder: This story shares the past set up for Mozenrath in Bestia's fic "More Than Meets The Eye.

* * *

Mozenrath was in pain. He was not being punished, not by a long shot. It was just his luck that the greatest reward that his Master could come up with was excruciatingly painful to perform. Master Velven was such a powerful demon, and his wizard was such an expert healer to help preserve the lives of his favorite toys when he pushed them a bit too far, that after weeks of careful research and gathering the necessary items they had found a way to restore to Mozenrath what had once been lost to him.

The regeneration of Mozenrath's bone hand had been the goal of this procedure, but Velven had also striven to perfect the spell so that ALL of his destroyed and/or mutilated appendages would be regenerated as well. Including the beautiful cat ears and tail that he'd inherited from his mother, Mirage. Distain had burned them off when they began to annoy him. The demon's personal opinion on this was that Disdain simply did not share his appreciation for beautiful and rare toys like he did.

Velven knew very well that Mozenrath had them at one time, as Disdain had been his... shall we say 'pen pal'? They sent letters back and forth for a time to discuss their latest magical find and all the possibilities it could bring to their tables. Of course, Valven had only been interested in the items that may be able to keep him alive long enough for him to reach a more water rich land, but they had never found anything of interest in those letters.

Disdain did write at great lengths about his precious little kitten, though. If nothing else Velven had been interested in the little half-cat. He'd kept every letter from the old fool that contained even a mention of Mozenrath's name. He'd memorized everything he read about Mozenrath's manners and how quickly he learned. He's laughed at the discriptions of Disdain's continuing rape of the boy and above all how very, very beautiful he was. Had Velven known just how perfect Mozenrath was back then he would have sent the Desert Hunters after him specifically long ago.

Currently the enticing love slave was naked and shackled to a freezing cold stone tablet in Master Velven's chief wizard's laboratory as his missing and/or damaged appendages were being regrown. Mozenrath was aware of the fact that he could bleed more than a human being and still live, but he'd had no idea the extent of this ability. It must have been his Demon-cat blood that did it, because no human could have possibly survived this. Velven was well aware of his little Auset's capabilities, which meant he was treated a bit rougher than his other favorites, since he was able to survive so much better than they could.

As such he was able to survive this treatment. His hand was not being healed, it was being slowly regenerated bit by bit, never sealing the blood vessels as they elongated and wrapped around the bleached white bones of his right hand. At the moment the skin reached to his wrist, thin blue and red vessels winding around his finger bones and pulsing as the blood ran through them. Muscle and flesh did not knit so quickly, and both seeped a steady flow of blood onto the stone tablet and down into a large and steaming blackish crimson pool on the cold stone floor. The scent of the blood was not of metal like human blood, but sweet and slightly musky. It was driving the Demon wild with lust, but he knew better than to try anything now. His poor little Auset wouldn't live through anything more at the moment, and he would just have to wait to slake his thirst.

Similar streams ran from the reforming kittenish ears and tail that were slowly regenerating in like speed manner as the hand. Master Velven found these new 'accessories' as he put them, very very interesting, and he wouldn't stop petting them no matter how Mozenrath twitched and whimpered when he did so. It was a very close second in regard to pain to the demon parasite, and at the moment Velven was taking great pleasure in the fact that he could hurt his toy so while at the same time rewarding him for his cooperation and obedience.

To him it showed just how resourceful he was. After all, it wasn't any fun to fuck your treasures if you couldn't hear them scream once in a while. It was his policy in sex that for every bit of pleasure he bestowed he was to receive that much in return with the cries of his toy's open pain. Which is why he never abused his slaves when they were unconscious. It didn't do them justice if they weren't even awake to enjoy their torment.

Mozenrath had been on this tablet for hours. He had shrieked and wailed, struggling fiercely for the first three, but soon had exhausted himself and had to lay down and cry silently. He knew this could easily kill him if he overexerted himself and got his heart pumping too much of his lifeblood out of the gaping wounds. And so he just lay there, taking whatever was done to him regardless of how he wanted to fight the rubbing and questing hands.

He was covered completely in a foul-smelling ointment that stung almost as much as the regeneration process, even having to endure the stuff being pressed and rubbed into every crack and crevice on his body. It would keep his new flesh from getting infected though, and would help him heal faster and keep his old skin white and beautiful no matter how much punishment was applied to it in the future. Even the lashing scars Disdain had left on him were healing away, not that he remembered where they had come from, mind you.

With no other choice, and too weak and pained to do anything else, he simply lay there chest down and trapped in his shackles, a never-ending flow of tears falling down his beautiful face, now ashen in color because of the sheer amount of his blood on the floor and not inside him. He felt undeniably empty inside, and just wanted to pass out and rest to regain his strength.

"Come now, you always wanted to have them back did you not"  
He started at the deceptively soothing voice, unaware that Master Velven had been paying him any mind after he had ceased his wailing. Warm hands rested on his chilled skin and he leaned into the touch involuntarily, his body seeking heat no matter how his mind objected to the source. Velven chuckled.

"Oh, yes... This room is rather cool, isn't it? I shall have to warm you."

He whimpered at the implication in that last sentence and cringed when the hands lay upon him again. Mozenrath was in no state to play... it would kill him if Master Velven decided to make his heart race like that, and he knew it. He found himself relaxing, however, when they began to massage a heated oil into his stiff muscles. It felt so good that he momentarily found his exhausted mind drawn away from the pain wrenching him slowly into the twisted world of insanity.

The hands rubbed firmly yet gently into his neck, shoulders, back and sides. His arms came next and he let his eyes slip halfway closed, praying that it would continue long enough for him to relax into sleep and escape the burning in his hand, ears and tail. They touched him all over, longer in some places than was necessary, but never hurting or questing, not too much anyway.

"You so look like your mother, and yet you do not. You have no idea just how beautiful you are, Auset. Shall I live a thousand years I will never find another gem like you." Velven purred at him, leaning in to lick at his ear. The sudden flow of warmth to a nearly frozen area made Mozenrath jerk in surprise, as it stung pins and needles all the way down to the end of his neck. Velven laughed, pulling Mozenrath's hair from his eyes. "Next I think we shall charm your hair to grow. Would you like that, Auset? It will make you ever so pretty..."

Mozenrath sniffed minutely and nodded as much as he possibly could without jolting his ears. Yes. He would do whatever was needed to please his master. He'd always loved his hair anyway, and it would be nice to have it at a more suitable length to match his naturally slender form.

Velven purred lovingly, finishing his massage on all areas that he could reach. "I can't wait to see you with long hair, Auset. It is long now for a man, but you are a pretty decoration, aren't you? No longer a man of the world, but a perfect, adorable little toy for your master's delight. There is no reason why you should not have long, luxurious curls for me to play with while I ravish you."

An unfamiliar voice soon broke the moment they had been having, and Mozenrath flinched and whined, frightened when his Master's tone suddenly turned deadly.

"What do you want, Wizard?" he hissed menacingly.

There was a scrambling sound as the man backed away and bumped into one of his tables, scattering some empty bottles they had used before onto the ground. Lucky for the man they did not break, because the sudden sound would have caused Mozenrath to cry, and that might have upset the Demon. "F-forgive me sire, but the healing is complete..."

Velven looked Mozenrath over. There was so much blood clinging to his fur and flesh that it had been hard to tell if his features had been fully regenerated, but a quick feel and a few buckets of mildly warm soapy water cleared that up. Mozenrath shrieked in pain, the water unbearably hot on his chilled skin. The tail had taken much longer than the ears and hand, so Velven had not seen it's regrowth completed.

"Ah! It's true, my little Auset. Look!"

Groggily Mozenrath complied and gently lifted his pounding and swimming head to look at the new hand, the only restored appendage he had truly been interested in from the start. It was an angry red, as if the skin was bruised or burned, but it was there and real. He tried to move it instinctively and gave a hiss of pain when it twitched in response. Master Velven shushed him, and put a hand on his back.

"Ah, ah. Let it heal properly first. Then you may practice with it. Sleep now. You have been so good today, Auset. I'm very proud of you."

And at those words Mozenrath's heart glowed. Perhaps it was because it had been the first real praise he'd received, or it may have been that fact that he was now being allowed to sleep. It felt good nonetheless, to hear those words to come from his master Velven's mouth. It meant he was doing well. Before his eyes closed from the sleep spell cast upon him by the wizard, Mozenrath spied his Master's hand settled next to his left hand close enough to reach on the stone tablet. With infinite courage he tentatively reached out a finger to stroke it, his lips curving ever so slightly at the pleased hum Velven emitted at the touch.

* * *

Days later Mozenrath was entertaining his master quite easily, and for once it didn't hurt him to do so. Velven watched and laughed as the newly regenerated cat creature leapt about his rooms from shelf to window to all kinds of furniture, giggling merrily as he went. He had adapted perfectly to his new body, and was so much prettier now that he was restored to the way he had been at birth.

Mozenrath's tail swished and flicked as it helped him to keep balance, his ears twitched at the slightest sound, and even his reformed hand was working perfectly, grasping tightly to anything it could wrap around to aid in his climbing game. The only indication that it had not been there before was the slightly shorter fingernails that were steadily catching up to their brothers on the adjoining appendage. His now very long curly midnight hair flowed behind him as he leapt and played, settling all around him whenever he landed as if it were trying to embrace him from top to knee.

Even his sense of smell seemed to have been heightened by his recent revitalization. Perhaps it was all mental, the reminder of his feline blood may have sparked something in him that he had simply forgotten was there, degraded and trained by Disdain as he had been as a child. Velven knew that he had been forced to abandon his feline tendencies and become human, and seeing him like this just made it all the more apparent to the demon how very valuable Mozenrath really was.

Mozenrath laughed girlishly as he leapt to the top of his wardrobe, but quickly gasped and lost his grip on the woodwork. He plummeted toward the hard marble floor, clutching his right hand to his chest. Velven acted immediately and caught the whining bundle gently. He pulled the hand into his and smiled. His poor little Auset had gotten a splinter. A rather deep sliver right below his thumb on the thick of his palm. It was a perfect excuse to punish the boy responsible for making sure his little treasures couldn't hurt themselves while he was away, and made a mental note to keep one of his hands as a trophy and place it in his desk with all the others.

The demon was confused as his little Auset started to cry, clutching at his bleeding palm. He looked pleadingly up at Velven, eyes more frightened than he had ever seen them before. Mozenrath held his hand out, and made a little noise in his throat, and suddenly Velven understood.

"Ah, you think your hand will disintegrate again because of that little prick, don't you?" he purred, amused at the fear he was seeing. His little Auset had never displayed fear such as this, not even at the threat of another run-in with the parasite.

When Mozenrath heard his fear vocalized, he dissolved into uncontrollable sobs, grasping at his master's shirt and begging in wordless phrases for help. Normally Velven would have punished such blatant begging and touching him so without permission, especially since he was getting blood all over his white shirt... But this was his favorite. He deserved special privileges.

"You won't lose your hand again, Auset. I promise you that."

Velven smiled and pulled the piece of wood out with his teeth, licking the wound. The taste was sensational, and Velven suddenly realized how long it had been since he had indulged in a bit of blood, especially from such a rare specimen. Mozenrath gasped when Velven bit down a bit, making the cut bleed anew. He started squirming when he sucked at it painfully, but stilled at the warning squeeze.

Velven pulled away, licking his lips. "You taste wonderful, Auset..." he growled. Mozenrath cringed, noting the unusual amount of gold in his master's eyes. This did not bode well.

_Demon bloodlust._

That little voice in his head informed him. Mozenrath wanted to scream, to struggle or even attempt to escape when Velven leaned in and put his lengthening fangs to his neck. He didn't though. He knew that if he did he would be punished.

_Just let him. You can survive a little more blood loss. He won't kill you, not yet._

The sharp canines bit into his flesh and he whined, grasping onto Master Velven's shoulders for support as he was leaned back for the better angle. He could feel the blood leaving him as the demon purred and sucked at the wound, and his head lolled to the side after a moment or two. He was getting dizzy... Velven was drinking too much. Just as he thought his head might explode from the pain and severe nirvana the demon released him roughly, pushing him to the floor.

Velven threw his head back and howled demonically, the warm red liquid still pooled around his lips, fangs still elongated and dripping. He took great breaths for only a few seconds, then quickly composed himself and looked down at the little cat creature trembling and cringing at his feet. Perhaps he had overdone it a little. His pet looked a bit ill.

He picked up the pale body and held it close, ignoring the frightened cry at first contact. "Hush, Auset."

Mozenrath obeyed, biting his lip to keep himself silent. He was laid on his circular bed and tucked into the sheets tightly, and Velven pressed a cloth to his neck to stem the bleeding. Mozenrath lay still and breathed as quietly as he could, keeping his eyes carefully averted. Velven purred at him.

"Good, Auset. I'll send a healer for you." he grasped Mozenrath's hand and pressed it to the cloth on his neck gently, then pressing firmly. "Hold this, and don't let go until they get here, understand?"

Mozenrath nodded groggily. Velven leaned down and kissed him roughly, obviously trying to hold himself back. He would have been able to ravish the feline all he wanted tonight, if he hadn't given in to his demon bloodlust. Now he would just have to wait. Suddenly angry, he wrenched himself away and stormed out the door, locking it behind him. The halls will echo with Auset's screams in forty-eight hours.


	6. Musings of a Hero

Sorry, forgot to update yesterday. Here's two today to make it up to you.

* * *

"DENIED?"

The booming, enraged howl made all the birds in the garden leap into flight, startled from their perches on the fountains and trees. One red parrot in particular squawked and, instead of bursting into flight, lost his footing and plummeted to the ground.

"Aw! That hurt..." he whined to himself, then got up and ruffled his feathers before flying quickly to the throne room to see what was up. He purched in a windowsill, dodging the ornate and startlingly heavy turban that whizzed past him and down into the fountain, where it was quickly retrieved by Rajah. He shook his head and looked back down into the room, knowing immediately what was wrong with his friend.

Aladdin was pacing the floor, looking for all the world like somebody had just run over his new puppy with a cart that had sharpened metal spikes imbedded in the wheels. Staring at him from her slightly smaller, though more elaborately decorated throne sat Jasmine, in all her royal best. She had her hand to her forehead, looking exasperated to say the least.

"Yes, Aladdin. The committee decided that it was just too dangerous." Jasmine verified, looking a bit glum. Jasmine didn't want a war, so she was glad that the request had been denied, but then Aladdin had been anticipating this for almost a month and she knew how much it must hurt him to be turned away like that. It was time he learned his place in the scheme of things though, and she already knew that he was not going to take it well.

"How can they do this to them? They know what's happening over there! Wouldn't they want someone to come and help them if it was their city?" he shouted, unbelieving of the stolid spoiled old farts that had condemned an entire city to their slow and painful deaths simply because it wasn't in their own best interests to conduct a rescue mission. He paced faster, growling and muttering obscure obscenities as he did so.

Genie was upset as well, obviously. Currently he was standing in a corner with his arms crossed, looking rather red in the face with his lips pressed together firmly. Since the Djinn had met Aladdin he'd gained a whole new respect for human life. They fascinated him and he was amazed at how resourceful they could be, even with their limited abilities. But for every good point about humans there was always a bad, and things like this happened far too often in Agrabah for his liking. Aladdin tried so hard to be a good ruler, to help people when they needed it the most. But he was being held back by some silly thing called 'Tradition' and 'Protocol'. It wasn't fair that the one person most suited to be the proper ruler had to get everything past a gathering of cowardly old men.

Aladdin continued his rant, disturbing the doves Jasmine kept in a little cage by the throne. He took her arms in his hands and bent down to look evenly at her desperately. "We CAN'T let this happen, Jasmine! We just CAN'T! Isn't there anything else we can do?" he practically begged her. She knew the laws better than anyone else, and if she could just find a loophole...

There was always a loophole she could find. Nothing in the law was ironclad, he knew. If it was he wouldn't have been able to marry Jasmine in the first place. If there's one thing he'd learned from all his time in the palace it was that the Rulers had the last say in everything, be it a party or something as drastic as changing laws and declaring war.

"No. I'm sorry Aladdin, but there's just no way." Jasmine stated flatly. Aladdin opened his mouth to argue and she put up her hand to silence him. "I've got to put my foot down on this one. There's nothing we can do for that city. It's just not possible." she shakes her head sadly, trying to put him off his quest by being cutely pitiful. Jasmine had learned just the right buttons to push with Aladdin to get what she wanted. Usually it worked.

Aladdin let go of her and backed away, shocked. In all their time together he had never heard something like this from his soul mate. Her tone had been the same as before, but there was an underlying finality to it that was impossible to miss, especially if one was tuned in to the voices of unfair authority. She... couldn't, WOULDN'T do that to him... would she? It just wasn't right. "A-are you... " he stammered, eyes wide, "...pulling RANK on me?"

She nodded solemnly, lowering her hand. "Yes. I'm sorry, Aladdin... but I forbid you to enter that city, or anyone else to enter that city on your behalf. It wouldn't be judicious."

"JUDICIOUS? IT WOULDN'T BE JUDICIOUS? You mean that it would be too much of an effort for you to arrange something that could save the lives of hundreds of innocent people!" he accused, glaring at her.

"Aladdin!" she snapped. "They discussed it for weeks. Seven of our most respected elders sat in that stuffy little room and talked about every angle and possibility that could come of this if we decided to attack. The choice they made is the best one for Agrabah, and it's the best one for our allies as well. The decision has been made, and nothing we can do will change that! You can't go against the committee!"

"But YOU can! You can order this even if the committee advises against it! YOU'RE the blood royal here! They can't stop you if you want to launch the mission!" he pleaded with her again, taking her hands in his. It was obvious that he was being torn apart by this. He was going to do everything in his power to help these people, because he had a strong apathy for them. He remembered starving as a child, crying himself to sleep at night clutching his stomach in pain. He remembered watching his poor mother waste away to nothing, and finally die afraid and in agony under the heat of the scorching sun, calling out to her son even though he was right there next to her. If he had to beg to get this to happen, to save those people from suffering that fate then so be it. He leaned in to say something else, but she pulled her hands away, backing off.

"No." she snapped. "I stand by the committee. You will stay outside the boundaries of that city, Aladdin, as will all palace sentries under your command." It was undeniably an order. It had finally happened. Aladdin had been made fully aware of his position in the palace, and it had been his own wife that had done it to him.

He gaped at her, as did Genie and Iago. All were seemingly lost in a perpetual state of abandoned astonishment until Aladdin broke the silence, scowling at her angrily. "Fine." he muttered in a deceptively calm voice. When Jasmine sighed in relief that he had assented and tried to hug him he shoved her off and stalked away.

"Where are you going?" Jasmine calls after him, angry that he had rejected her attentions.

He doesn't respond, whistling for Carpet. He sends a slightly apologetic look back to Genie and Iago, the shoots off on Carpet, leaving a frustrated and extremely huffy Sultana behind.

"Come on, Carpet. I want to go somewhere a bit more... sane." Carpet understood him, and made a course for the place Aladdin had been visiting frequently since it's owner had disappeared mysteriously almost nine months ago... They head for the Land of the Black Sand.

It was no surprise to anyone that Mozenrath had disappeared, but he had left his Gauntlet behind in the lab room where he'd tried to create the Sorcerer's Stone. That was what had confused Aladdin so much. It just didn't make any sense for him to do that. Aladdin knew from his past scuffs with the sorcerer that he would die if he was denied the Gauntlet for a long period of time. For a while he had wondered why he had left, then thought that maybe he had been the victim of some odd magical mishap.

Aladdin had tried to keep it as long as possible, hoping that they would manage to find Mozenrath before he died, but they never did. Genie had told him when they destroyed it that he wouldn't have survived that long without it, and he would have been dead already. It was small consolation. Aladdin had felt that, in some small way, he had aided in an undeserved execution.

After all, he hadn't actually hated the sorcerer. He didn't think it was possible for him to hate anybody.

He looked down over the side of Carpet to stare once again at the decimated and slowly decaying remains of the dead city around him. The Mamluks had all disintegrated at some point, and nothing moved down there anymore. Nothing at all. Even the street lights that reacted to magic had stopped glowing when Carpet passed by, only adding to the uncomfortable gloom of the surrounding city. It wasn't even an undead city anymore, it was just plain dead.

It was all so very sad that this had once been a bustling city full of life, laughter and love at some point, before some catastrophic event killed every one. The sand was black with the dried and powdered remains of the bodies of those who had once inhabited this glorious city. It was so extensive that it couldn't have possibly been a poor city. It was at least as big as Agrabah, maybe even a bit more. It had developed quickly, this much was obvious since all the buildings were almost the same shape and size, as if it had all been built overnight by the same contractors. Fleetingly he wondered what had happened to them all, before he realized it was a fruitless task. There was no way of telling really, as sand shifted and covered the tracks of massacres and natural disasters like nothing else in the world could, unless they were a selfish and uncaring government.

He looked over at the Citadel, wondering at how beautiful it must have been when not painted black and other faded, haunting colors. It was still beautiful now, just not as beautiful as it must have been before. He imagined it in bright gold and yellow, the sun shining down on it from above, making it seem to glow from the inside like a decorative lantern. He smiled. This place really was beautiful. All you had to do was look close enough.

He sighed, once again wondering what had happened to Mozenrath. He hadn't been too difficult to fight with. Sometimes he'd even been a welcome distraction, albeit an aggravating one, from the drawling and boring world of royal life. Smirking, he wondered what the sorcerer would have thought about that opinion.

"I'm sorry," he mimicked to himself, in a very exaggerated 'Mozenrath' voice, "But have you completely and utterly lost your sun-boiled mind, Street Rat?" He laughed when Carpet shifted, 'looking' back at him oddly. "Never mind." he grinned.

He felt better already.

Steering Carpet toward the big doors to the towering and all together intimidating Citadel, Aladdin realizes something he hadn't before. There was nothing to stop him from snooping into all of the sorcerer's stuff now that he was gone. Pushing open the doors with a few great heaves, he goes to wander inside the Citadel, suddenly curious now that he could wander in there freely.

The halls were all the same as he remembered, though darker now that the magic was gone from the torches and they no longer lit on their own as you passed them. He rummages in his clothes and soon finds the dagger his father had given him and the flint he went nowhere without. Old habits die hard. He lights a torch, grumbling when it took him longer than he was used to. He was rusty apparently. Street skills tend to disappear when one is pampered by servants doing all your work for you.

With no other option open to him, he wanders aimlessly, ticking off the rooms he'd already been to. The throne room, the three separate laboratories he'd visited before, the halls and odd connecting labyrinth of halls he'd traversed almost completely while hunting the Thurdak. Eventually he locates the kitchen, several bedrooms that looked like they hadn't been entered in centuries, and the old servant's quarters. Sighing, he finds the first staircase he can and climbs all the way to the top. He has to use some of his acrobatics to get all the way up, as a rather large portion of the staircase was missing. He figured Mozenrath would be able to get up there, so there might be something of interest in this particular tower.

Upon reaching the top he finds an ebony door with a heavy latch on it. It was unlocked at the moment, so he took a breath and pushed his way inside. He gasps. This was no storage room. In fact, it looked very comfortable and lived in.

He had found Mozenrath's bedroom.

The room was very small, smaller even than the hovel that Aladdin had lived in most of his life. It was circular and the ceiling was tall and cone-shaped. A lantern hung from the center and waves of fabric hung from it and met with the walls in a decorative arch. A pair of shackles dangled from the wall nearest the one barred window, and a large metal lock hung on a peg nearby. He could only assume this was the lock for the door. The place reminded him more of a tower cell than a bedroom.

There were very few things in this room, not that much more would fit without severely obstructing movement. To the right of the door was an ebony chest with silver trim and locks. Aladdin noted that, like the door, it was also unlatched. Curious, he knelt beside it and opened the lid, peering inside. The first thing that hit him was the sweet smell of aged wood; the same smell that had immediately caught his attention during the first scuffle with the wizard, and had assaulted him with it's familiar aroma in every battle since. Folded neatly inside the chest was a set of the dark finery that Mozenrath wore so well. Aladdin retrieved the shirt and felt the material in his fingers.

He couldn't help but think that it matched Mozenrath's appearance. Dark and mysterious, strong and precisely refined - but not too ornate, and velvety to the touch. He lifts it to his nose and again he relishes the scent of the wood that has permeated the fabric and forever marked it. Distantly Aladdin wonders if that smell will ever fade. Folding it gently, he places it exactly as he found it, suddenly very guilty for touching it in the first place.

To the other side of the door towered a bookshelf full of ancient and well organized books, scrolls and stone tablets inscribed in many languages and colorful, intricate designs. One catches his eye and, though tempted, he resists touching it for fear of curses and such. A wizard's home is no place to be foolish. He glances oddly at the little vials of glowing blue liquid on the ends of the shelf, then moves on.

There was only one other thing in the room; a small circular area that is curtained off. Curiosity gets the better of Aladdin and he pulls the curtain back, being as careful as he knew how not to make any noise, though he couldn't imagine any reason he should be so quiet. His breath catches in his throat. There is a long and thin divan inside, black and midnight blue, surrounded by pillows and furs and covered in a deep amethyst blanket.

So this is where he'd slept. Aladdin sits experimentally on it, pulling the blanket back. It was soft. Almost unusually so. It must have been stuffed with feathers, or silk fibers. Now that he noticed it, the pillows were very soft as well, even lined with plush fabrics and very tightly stitched to keep any rough edges from unraveling. Even the furs were sewn so that the skin side was covered by more of the plush fabric, keeping the leather from all contact with anything else. Mozenrath must have had sensitive skin.

Something bothered Aladdin about his room, now that he looked more closely at it. The sorcerer lived in such an enormous place that it was hard to believe he had chosen this small tower room as his bedroom. He lay down in the divan and pondered on this a while, wondering why Mozenrath would have chosen to sleep in such a small enclosed space. Then it occurred to him that he himself was often very uncomfortable sleeping in the Master bedroom in the Palace. It was just too big for him after sleeping in that hovel all his life, and no amount of curling up in the sheets as tight as he could would make him feel more comfortable. He always felt very exposed and vulnerable in that room, which is why he had so much trouble sleeping.

Aladdin had learned from Genie that sorcerer's apprentices are often treated like slaves. He was sure Mozenrath would have had a place to sleep as a child that was much smaller than his hovel. Perhaps this very room had been his room then, and he had simply chosen to remain there because it was familiar to him. Aladdin had to admit that this room felt right to him, and had to bite his lip to keep from falling asleep in the comfortable divan.

What an awful life Mozenrath must have had here. He hated to admit it, but he'd always felt sorry for the man knowing that he had no one to turn to if he ever needed help. Nobody to talk to or keep him company in this morbid land that he was bound to. It made his heart to clench thinking about it, and realized that he missed the sorcerer, if only for the lack of suitable distraction from his new 'responsibilities'.

He scoffed at that, remembering why he had come here in the first place. The mood now effectively ruined, he got up and sighed, whistling for Carpet at the window. He flew off over the city, looking down at it mournfully. There was only enough room in his heart for the knowledge of one ghost city. He would not allow another to be formed, not even if it meant his throne. Silently plotting, he rode back to the palace. Jasmine would just have to come in last this time.


	7. Reunited with a Hero

Previous chapter unsuitable for Fanfiction . net - please refer to Adultfanfiction . net for story in all its full depraved glory.

* * *

Something was happening in the small oasis not far from the city, and Velven intended to find out just who this band of ragged men thought they were, thinking that they could even hope to breech the city's walls. They had been traveling for quite some time, obviously, as they were all half starved and parched from a long march through the desert sun.

The leader appeared to be a prince or young Sultan of some obscure city in the west, but he was no threat. He didn't carry himself like royalty, nor did he truly look it at all. His hands were way too calloused and skin much too dark. It was almost as if the men had taken the boy from the streets and dressed him up to put on a comforting front to the rest of them. They were nobodies, though how a band of such ingrates had procured a genie he didn't know. A genie would be useful to him if he managed to catch it, but the rest of them were cannon fodder. Nothing more.

They had to be taken care of quickly before the peasants in his own city decided to follow their example. It was already evident that they had noticed the men, and were becoming somewhat of a nuisance. There was some sort of small riot to deal with in the streets in front of the palace. Mostly headstrong young men and fiery young women protesting the harem they knew so much about.

Velven grinned. He would have to send some guards down to add them all to his little collection later.

The rest of the little tantrums starting up were minor and located far from the inner walls of the city that guarded the palace. More protests to the small amount of water that was being distributed to the common street trash below. It was such a simple thing to make them all go away. They may have outnumbered Velven and his soldiers twenty to one, but it was only an inconvenience to him. They couldn't breech the inner wall of his city, and even if they could it was against the law to have a weapon unless you were a guard, so none of them had a real sword. All they had were the crude farming tools that they had been allowed to keep.

Besides, it wasn't hard to set an example for them. Just pluck a random boy or girl from the crowd... or maybe several of them, and have them executed to show what will happen to those that fight the crown. Do it slowly and messily, let the people hear them scream and gurgle blood from their mouths as they die, and then invite them to attack if they wish to commit suicide. No, there was never a riot that survived long in his city.

It seemed almost laughable to Velven that he even cared what his peasants were up to. They were there to farm the crops that fed his soldiers, keep him in fresh young blood and things to play with, and die when they are of no more use to him. That was all they were good for. They weren't even people to him. They were beasts of burden. They lived to die for him.

* * *

Mozenrath watched through blurry and unfocused eyes as his Master ordered the guards around, his voice harsh and sharp. He was sitting in the corner of the room, set there hours ago by Velven once he'd had his fun with him. He was shivering from cold as the clothing he wore was not nearly adequate enough to hold the biting chill of the night air off his white skin.

Somewhere deep in his mind he could hear a voice screaming out at him, saying that he had to let himself FEEL. He ignored it. He couldn't hear what the words meant anyway. It couldn't have been him talking because his thoughts no longer came in words: they came in emotions, pictures and memories of sensations. Words no longer registered in his mind, as he had heard so many languages he didn't understand shouted in the very quintessence of agony or passion, it came to be that he ignored words and their complicated meanings. Actions, tones and volume spoke louder than words anyway, especially in this place. His thoughts came to him in the ways of an animal.

He was not afraid anymore. There was no point. If he could not do anything to stop the pain and his master wasn't going to let him die because of it then what was the point of fear? And yet, even if he did die then the pain would be gone and he would no longer have to suffer. It made perfect sense to him, not that he would have expressed it in as many words as that, even had he been able. He was a thing. Not a person. Not a creature with thoughts and feelings. A thing.

And how dare he have ever thought otherwise.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and a sharp sting went through his face as he was slapped roughly by Velven. His head lolled to the side because of the force of the blow. Mozenrath didn't flinch at all, simply turning his expressionless gaze up at the demon. His eyes seemed to unnerve the Sultan greatly, and somewhere in his heart more words were pulled up at that subconscious realization.

Good.

You should be disturbed by this. Aren't you the one that did it?

But outside he was as blank as he had been for a week now. Unfeeling. Unheeding of the pain and humiliating things he was put through day after agonizing day. It didn't even register anymore. He knew he could feel the pain, but the panic and fear that usually was triggered by it was totally nonexistent. He was hollow. Dead to the world. And he would be as long as he knew this thing was still there to torture him.

"Get up." Velven ordered harshly. "And go to your room. You are beginning to bore me."

Mozenrath didn't hear the words, but he recognized the tone and body language to mean 'go away'. So he did, pulling himself up off the floor and walking from the room with an air of total submissiveness and complete unadulterated soullessness that would have made his former servants, the Mamluks, look alive and vibrant with feeling. His feet carried him automatically to his rooms, where he lay on his back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling with no resolve to change the filthy garments he had been wearing for the past two days. That little voice was the reason behind this as well. Even the animalistic Mozenrath knew that the clothes were dirty and they smelled of sex and blood, but the voice told him it wasn't worth it.

Let Velven change him if it was really that important. He's the one that had gotten him dirty.

So Mozenrath just lay there, breathing evenly and unfazed by his situation, even as the sounds of battle began to creep up from the streets of the city below. And as he lay there, the shouting and clanging of metal against metal ringing loud and clear in the atmosphere and creating an interesting if not musical cacophony of human rage and hate, that little voice managed to utter one more word before he slipped willingly into blissful unconsciousness.

Ha.

* * *

Aladdin hated war. This should have been obvious to anyone that knew him even remotely as a friend or even as an acquaintance. But looking at him now, fighting for the lives of his fellow street rats and desert dwellers in the fiery glow of the setting sun, he appeared to be a ruthless and skilled fighting machine. He felled soldier after soldier, unheeding of their cries, only thinking of the tired and starving citizens of the city that had joined in the battle with their last ounce of strength and courage and fought bravely at his side. His attention only turned for an instant as a young boy was brought down near him and the child's blood spattered his face, painting him in a like fashion to the rest of the men that had not been so careful as he.

That single glance to the side nearly cost him his life, but he managed to catch the sword aimed at his face with a counterstrike he'd learned on the streets. He swung his head to the side gracefully and brought his dagger up, lopping off the hand that had held the sword. Before the man even had a chance to scream he had thrust the blade up, through the throat of the unfortunate soldier and out the top of his skull. The body fell and he charged again, only to pause at the sight that greeted him then.

The last soldier guarding the gate was down. They could now break into the palace, without fear of soldiers coming from their backs. The makeshift ladders were brought out, and they climbed to the top of the wall and fought once again with swords and hoes, crude spears and kitchen knives. Slowly they made their way to the gates, and upon entering some began a looting spree while others kept off the soldiers for them as they worked to reclaim the wealth that had been stolen, taxed and possibly even bled from the people of this once great city.

Aladdin himself went up the flights of stairs, knocking aside soldiers as he went, determined to reach the harem as soon as possible. He knew as a thief and a hero that when something goes wrong people always go for their most prized possessions. They do this for one of three reasons. Either they want to try and escape with it, hold it as they are brought to their last breath, or his most dreaded thought, destroy it so that no other may possess it after they are gone. Knowing the blood of the Demon King he was morbidly positive that the third was his course, and he was absolutely hell-bent on getting there before every one of the poor souls inside that gilded cage was ruthlessly slaughtered.

He reached the top of the staircase and a set of double doors, made of handcrafted ebony and lined with silver. This was it. He heard screaming inside and pounded on the doors, trying to get in desperately. More men came up the stairs behind him and pushed as well. With four and twenty men pounding at the hard wood, it was obvious that they would eventually make their way inside. Eventually wasn't good enough though, and as the screaming on the other side of those doors quieted a river of human blood began to run out from under the threshold.

"NO!" he screamed, slipping in the vile fluid. "PUSH HARDER!"

The men were momentarily taken aback, but the continued screams from deeper inside the rooms stirred their souls to try again. They redoubled their efforts, pushing on that door as if it was their own lives on the line. There was a deafening snap of broken metal and wood hitting marble as the heavy doors finally gave way. There was nothing live in the entryway to that hell wrought place as they stepped inside. Many of the soldiers, most of whom had been perfectly composed on the battlefield while killing soldier after soldier fell to his knees and vomited at the sight of so many women, teenagers and children lying dead and lifelessly twitching on the floor.

Aladdin himself was one of them.

Unable to bear the sight he collapsed, retching as the rest of the freedom fighters rushed to the back rooms to help those that were still living. What seemed like forever to him, but was surely only minutes, Aladdin looked up and wiped his mouth. His scowl would have sent any sane being running for their very lives if any had been around to see it. As it was only the bodies remained, and even they seemed to want to recoil at the sight. Aladdin was in a demonic rage brought on by the devastation in this place. A rage that would not be quenched until the perpetrator was brought to painful, bloody justice at the end of his sword. He would have revenge for these people, and he would kill anything that got in his way.

* * *

Mozenrath was almost surprised when his Master burst into his room holding the dead body of a little girl in one of his blood-soaked arms. As it was he had been expecting to sleep all night in peace, but if master was here that meant he was wanted. Mechanically he rose and stepped forward, obediently bowing low to the ground at his masters feet. The body was dropped beside him and he merely glanced over at it blankly, the dead eyes of the girl not nearly enough to faze him from his emotionally dead state.

Velven gripped him by his vest and hauled him up, looking at him with glowing red eyes. "You have been a good toy, Auset." he hissed in his deep bass. "You shall continue to do so for me in the land of the dead!"

As Velven lifted his hand, claws glinting red and almost beautiful in the failing sunlight, Mozenrath neither flinched nor made a sound. He was not afraid of death. If anything he was looking forward to it after all he'd endured. It was nothing new to him. It would have been stupid of him to have thought it wasn't forthcoming in a place like this, with a Master like Velven, and in a country where human life was worthless unless there was some amount of money behind it. He was ready.

The hand came down but missed, and Mozenrath was dropped roughly to the floor. He looked up blankly to see a sword protruding from Velven's chest. The demon reached down and yanked it out, pulling the handle out through the wound and making his black blood spill all over. This Mozenrath did react to, crawling backward and out of the way so that the thick and steaming black stuff wouldn't touch him. It sizzled as it touched the floor, soaking up the residue of blood and fear that had permeated the material over the years. Even out of the body, the demon blood relentlessly seeks it's nourishment.

When Mozenrath had made it into the corner he looked back at the two men fighting to the death. His master slashed and growled at the much smaller man that was currently trying to bring him down The boyish looking man backed away to dodge an attack, then lunged forward, bringing the sword through his Master's side. The demon growled and slashed again, missing narrowly. Even a demon can bleed to death if you cut him deep enough, and Velven was well on his way already.

They were screaming at each other. Words that Mozenrath didn't care to listen to or understand. It didn't matter any to him who won this fight. But then he really caught a good look at the face of the youth that parried and dodged, slashing at Velven with infinite skill and warrior prowess. He had seen this boy before... he was positive. And as he watched them fight flashes of memories long since forgotten began to pound at the inside of his skull, demanding to be acknowledged.

The sex slave put his hands to his head, the completely dead look in his face gradually receding. He could hear that voice again... and it refused to let him be. It hurt... so much. But it was going to be heard. For an instant Velven's body was replaced with his own in his vision. He was wearing odd clothes that somehow looked so very familiar to him. There was also something else... a leather glove on his right hand. A... gauntlet?

Mozenrath's eyes teared. Velven's life was fading, and as such his memories and his name were returning to him... albeit slowly. He knew this. He KNEW it! The image was so irritatingly familiar and it scratched at the surface of his brain until finally, he made the connection.

_"I am Mozenrath, ruler of the distant land of-"_

_"Ruler? Hah! You're barely older than me!"_

This was...

_"Aladdin! I'm so glad that you're alive! For now!"_

That man over there... he knew him...

_"I single handedly conquered the Land of the Black Sand! I became the most powerful sorcerer of our age! And that's only the start. I WILL RULE THE SEVEN DESERTS!"_

_"Suuurree... but how many parties do you get invited to?"_

He had been there when he'd lost something precious... just before...

_"You fool! I've lost everything..."_

_"Just goes to show you, Mozenrath! You can't judge a book by it's cover!"_

He wailed in mental agony just as Aladdin sliced the head off of the vile demon's body. It fell to the floor, soaking everything within three feet of the corpse with putrid black bile. Mozenrath's body went into a sort of shock as Aladdin approached him, looking like he had just stepped out of hell to take his revenge on Mozenrath for all his misdeeds. He went blank once again when Aladdin stopped before him.

If he was going to die... what did it matter who dealt the final blow?

* * *

He had done it. The Demon King was dead, and the people were avenged. Aladdin swayed a bit, exhausted from the battle though he didn't have a scratch on him from the demon's claws. The sound of a descending wail from nearby broke his trance, and he looked over to the corner of the room. A shadow was curled up in the corner, shivering lightly. He walked over and stopped just short of three feet from the being, and gasped.

Aladdin looked down at the slender and almost painfully white-skinned cat creature. It wasn't moving at all, blank ebony eyes staring straight ahead without any regard for the man bearing a sword standing only a few feet in front of him. He was dressed in an outfit that mostly would have been worn by a woman, and it fit him well because of his femininely shaped form. Slender arms, bare but for the silver and elegantly carved manacles that adorned his wrists and ankles alike, hung loosely at his sides. A simple vest that bore a resemblance to Aladdin's old street clothes only in a much more expensive material outlined in silver threaded embroidery curved lightly around his thin chest and stopped just short of his waist. Below his waist, hanging just on the curve of his hips, was a pair of transparent linen harem pants that (thankfully) were worn over a very small undergarment made of the same material as the vest. He wore no shoes, but the nails on his toes and fingers were painted a translucent blue-black that shimmered with silver flecks.

The curly black hair was tied up in a high tail and it fell all the way down to the floor and pooled around the feline's hips on the marble floor. Aladdin's eyes were drawn to the tail, which had a small ring of silver very much like the manacles latched a few inches away from the end of it. A similar piece of silver was placed on his left ear, and upon closer inspection, hid a small hole that had been torn in the thin flesh at some point. All skin that showed was slicked with a sweet smelling Egyptian oil that had been mixed with a very fine glitter, and his face was painted in the typical Egyptian way, only there was no foundation as that would have hidden the naturally white skin. Even his lips were gilded in a shining blue-black paint, as were the lids of his eyes. Aladdin let out the breath he had not known he'd been holding.

This creature was gorgeous.

And bizarrely familiar. Aladdin couldn't quite place it, but he had an astonishingly strong nagging feeling that he had seen this creature before, though he couldn't possibly have forgotten him if he had. He knelt slowly, placing his sword on the floor.

"Hey... It's alright now. He can't hurt you anymore." he said softly.

The dead eyes finally lifted and focused on him... actually FOCUSED. The creature looked him up and down for a moment, then shifted back into the corner even more, as if he wanted to melt into it. Aladdin reached out to him, but he gave a full-body flinch, whimpering. The Young Sultan sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

"You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm no slavemaster, nor do I delight in the suffering of others. Please, let me help you?"

The creature shook it's head. He was obviously not going to be moved without proper coaxing. Fortunately for Aladdin he was obviously very tired, and would most likely fall asleep soon if not immediately. Reaching a hand out to touch his hair, Aladdin soon managed to calm the distraught feline into a drowsy state.

"You should sleep now. I'll keep you safe. I promise."

The cat looked up at him with an unreadable expression, and once again he was struck with the instant recognition of the creature, but still couldn't place him. Perhaps it was simply a strong resemblance? None the less, the eyes closed and the slim body slumped in its place against the corner. Just afterward Genie appeared with an animated POOF.

"Hey, AL! We can't find the Sultan in this me- oh! Um... never mind! Hey, what's that?"

"A new friend, Genie." Aladdin smiled, picking up the liberated slave and holding him securely against him. "He's going back with us."

"You know... he looks an awful lot like..."

"Who?" Aladdin turned, suddenly very interested. Genie spotted the intact hands and the feline features and shook his head.

"Oh... never mind. It couldn't be him."


	8. Home Again, Unfortunately

Now, poor Moze is very confused in this chapter, obviously, and I wrote his thought processes to reflect that. It bounces around far too much for him to be in his right mind, but his intelligence and reasoning clearly shows through at the same time. It was difficult, and tedious, but well worth it. You'll notice him thinking more clearly later on. He is also very skittish. This is also not normal for Mozenrath, however think if he had actually been through the things he has in this story so far. I don't think it's OOC for him, or anyone for that matter, who has been through such severe trauma. Recovery will progress, though slowly, and his inherent Mozenrath bitchiness will eventually shine back through.

However, he did develop a few interesting phobias. These will be revealed as they are discovered by Aladdin and company.

Title of fic is about to make some sense in the next four or five chapters.

* * *

Mozenrath was beyond confused. Not to say he didn't know what was going on at all, but his ideas on how to proceed from the position he was in now were limited, if not pointless. He knew for a fact that he was not going to regain his powers. There was just no way, with his hand regenerated. Given the chance now he wouldn't put the Gauntlet back on, even if he was sure it would no longer work for him. Honestly he was thankful for that stupid book and the sorcerer trapped within it for freeing him from it's curse.

Looking back on it all he might even have gone through with it again.

It had only been so important to him before because he'd still been the ruler of the Land of the Black Sand, and eventually would have had to find a way to defend himself and his city from enemies. At the time he couldn't have imagined another way to live. Not without power, and security. Certainly not without his hard-won independence and freedom from those that would abuse him if given the slightest chance.

Now he just wanted to be allowed to live.

Free or not, he wanted to be allowed to live. He could handle being a slave, even preferred it to the daily struggle for sovereignty he had been living as Mozenrath, so long as he was going to be treated well. Problem was, he seriously doubted at this point that such a thing as a kind master in the world even existed. True, Aladdin had been exceedingly kind, even careful with him so far. However, in Mozenrath's mind, there was no way to tell if it was simply because he was still in a delicate state after his ordeal.

It was true that Aladdin was a hero, no doubt. It was also true that he had grown up on the streets, knowing what it was like to be mistreated, abused, and even seen as an animal simply because he had no money. But Mozenrath also knew very well that there was a significant difference between slaves and street rats, no matter what country in the seven deserts you came from.

If you kill a street rat, for almost any reason, it is still considered murder... in most countries anyway. Same as if you had killed a working citizen, though certainly not as severe. A fine may be issued for the loss of a street rat, same as the fine and trial for a citizen. But killing a slave, for any reason, or no reason at all, was nothing more than disposing of unwanted property. Even street rats were considered more human than a slave, and most in the seven deserts never thought twice about this logic. Not even the street rats.

In the eyes of most, disposing of a slave and disposing of an old horse or cart was the same exact thing.

Mozenrath supposed that Aladdin may have been more aware of exactly where slaves came from than most people. Ludicrous as it sounds, some people were firm in their belief that slaves were born of other slaves and that there was nowhere else they could possibly come from. They were bred as slaves to be slaves, and nothing would convince them otherwise. The truly sad thing was that these supposedly 'educated' people were the same people that hired slave traders to go out and capture poor people and street rats to add to their stocks.

Aladdin had most likely seen this happen on the streets, possibly even had to evade attempted captures of his own. And he was no fool. So there was also the possibility that he was more inclined to be humane. However, he was a Sultan now, that much was painfully obvious to the former wizard, and his new status may have corrupted his thinking so much that he may closely resemble every other ruler in the world.

But then again, Aladdin was so very noble and righteous in his beliefs that it was very likely he was indeed bound to be a good master, if he intended to keep Mozenrath at all.

And yet the heroic youth Aladdin had been when Mozenrath last met him would not have launched a war against his precious princess's wishes and killed many men and a Sultan, evil though he may be, with his own two hands.

There were so many angles and possibilities to consider that Mozenrath had succeeded in giving himself a lovely headache trying to work them out. Volleying back and forth in his mind had confused him even more, and with his mental facilities in shambles from the recent withdrawal and memory surge it was impossible to think, and yet impossible not to think at the same time.

Which made the thought of blissful, oblivious sleep extremely appealing to him.

If only he were capable of it right now.

They were on their way back to Agrabah, and Aladdin was upset that he had lost so many of the slaves in the harem with his, he thought, too slow actions. He somehow felt it was his fault that so many of them had been killed by Velven in his madness, and as Mozenrath had been trained to do, he was sensitive to his Master's emotions. The knowledge that Aladdin was upset combined with his headache and inability to loose himself in sleep was making him incredibly uncomfortable and fearful, and he groaned with the strain of it all.

Aladdin's hand went to tangle in his hair to comfort him, and he flinched, startled. Both he and Aladdin were lounging inside one of the carriages they had been given for their return journey by the grateful citizens of the liberated city, Mozenrath's head in Aladdin's lap. The flinch made Aladdin draw out of his own thoughts long enough to smile reassuringly at the distraught creature, and his hand petted through Mozenrath's midnight curls adoringly, sometimes curling around the base of his ears as he did so.

Aladdin seemed to have taken it upon himself to personally be responsible for Mozenrath. He had even found him more suitable clothes to wear for the trip back and kept him out of the sun, since his skin was so very sensitive to the punishing light. For his part Mozenrath had thus far been obedient and submissive, mostly because he feared what would befall him should Aladdin find out who he really was.

Not that he was too much of a threat anymore.

Aladdin sighed, and it was only a few seconds more that Mozenrath realized that the young Sultan's eyes were still locked on him. Instinctively he averted his eyes, curling up a bit more almost shyly under the analyzing gaze. Aladdin moved the hand in Mozenrath's hair to his back, rubbing gently.

"I can tell you're tired, so why don't you sleep, hm?" he asked softly.

Mozenrath didn't answer. In fact, he had not yet spoken at all. Aladdin was so very sporadic in his apparent rules because of his unstable mood, and it was even more damaging to Mozenrath's already swimming head. The fact that Aladdin didn't quite know how to help his new charge until they got back to Agrabah was upsetting him, as he was sensitive to the emotions of others, and the fact that Aladdin was upset about that upset Mozenrath. It was a horrible cycle, but an unavoidable one. The only time either of them got any good rest was when Genie took over watching the feline and Aladdin moved to another carriage for a few hours.

The Djinn made Mozenrath nervous though, and his sleep was fitful. He knew very well that the Djinn recognized him. Only the doubts he had developed after spending so long with humans prevented him from believing his magical senses and revealing to Aladdin Mozenrath's secret.

There was also something else behind the looks Mozenrath was receiving from the Djinn. Not exactly suspicious, but intrigued. As if he saw something about Mozenrath that even he was totally unaware of.

Aladdin was oblivious to the little mental war the two were having though, and as they came nearer Agrabah every day, he grew increasingly tense. And for very good reason. Sighing once again he lifted Mozenrath's head and moved out from underneath him, setting him back down on the pillows on the shifting floor of the carriage. He needed rest, and so did his friend.

"I'll be back. Try to relax and rest. I think we may have some explaining to do once we get to Agrabah."

* * *

Jasmine paced the lavish halls just outside her royal bedchamber angrily. He'd actually left. After all the trouble she had gone through to prove him wrong he had left anyway. And to make matters worse he had taken half the population of Agrabah with him too.

Well, that proved he had friends in low places, not that it would do him any good once he got back.

The committee was furious, and their constant prattling on about it was making Jasmine even more angry and irritated. She was going to be so very inconsolable once she was finished berating Aladdin for what he had done, having traumatized herself with her own ferocity and unfairness... but it was going to be done regardless.

A shout out came from the guards keeping watch, and she scowled. So he was back now, was he? Good. She turned to Rhazoul and seethed.

"Bring him here immediately!"

* * *

Genie was keeping watch over the creature Aladdin had brought with them back to Agrabah in the guest house. While the other slaves had been in enough of a right mind to remember their names and such and had been freed to go back to their homes (provided they still existed), they had not been located in the back rooms. Genie supposed that only the most thoroughly broken slaves were kept there. This little feline was the only one of those specific rooms to survive the Demon King's massacre of his most prized possessions.

Well, maybe not so little. He was slender and delicate no doubt, but had he the courage to stand upright he may have been a full head taller than Aladdin. If he had the courage, mind you. It was difficult for them to get him to look up from the floor, let alone stand.

Said enticing feline was laying drowsily upon the pile of pillows he'd been set upon, curled up into a defensive pose and fighting sleep with all of his strength. He was casting suspicious looks at the big blue Djinn over his tail, which was curled in front of his nose, and Genie just had to smile. Of course, he had been giving the creature odd looks of his own. He knew beyond a doubt that this was Mozenrath. He also knew that this was no longer the Mozenrath he had known.

The new features verified that, as well as the obvious complete 180 degree turn his attitude had taken.

Humans were so easy to train if you knew how. The same applied to any other creatures in the universe, Djinn included. The wonderful thing about Genie's mind, in his own opinion, was that he was experienced in both being a servant and master. He saw the world as it was, and how it should be all at once.

For example, Aladdin had done the right thing in going to save that city. That was how the world should be. However, he was currently in the throne room arguing at full volume with his wife, who at their wedding had vowed to trust in him no matter what, and had failed to fulfill that particular promise time and time again. That was how the world was. It wasn't fair, but it couldn't be helped.

It was the right thing to take Mozenrath back with them, considering that in Genie's mind he had already paid for his every crime in full and with harsh interest. It was right that for the moment Aladdin was unaware of who his new charge was, because it was not Genie's secret to reveal, and that he was not going to find out until Mozenrath decided on his own that Aladdin had the right to know. It was not right that an already traumatized Mozenrath had been subjected to being wrenched away from his last comfort by guards that he remembered all too vividly, and had to witness his new 'master' carried back to his own palace in the chains of a traitor.

Genie sighed.

Humans could be so stupid.

He just hoped that Jasmine was not so temperamental as she seemed, or his little buddy would find himself in the dungeon for a good while before this was done.

* * *

Do you remember that scene in the Aladdin movie when Aladdin comes out of the building with the flamingos out in front, one of them being Iago imitating Jasmine? The little building he was in at that time was the guest house. It was the first part of the palace that he stayed in overnight, and the place there he's the most comfortable with I think. So, that's where he is when I say the guest house.


	9. Finding His Voice

I think I may need to be a bit clearer on exactly what is happening inside Mozenrath's head right now. He does remember who he is, but most of his memories are very, very fuzzy. Right now he's pretty much only aware of the basics. Mozenrath remembers his name, the Gauntlet, his Kingdom, and the hero. After that it gets a bit complicated. He remembers ONLY the battles that he recalled the voices from. He knows that the Djinn is onto him by magical instinct, which is NOT memory based and cannot be erased once it is learned. Remember how he kept identifying things as magical even when he could remember nothing at all?

Now, he has NOT regained the memories that had been permanently erased by the potion. Like I said in the story, those are lost forever. Disdain will not be mentioned anymore by Mozenrath, because essentially to him he never existed. He cannot remember anything before that either, so Mirage is out of the picture as well. Which is most likely for the best... Unless of course she made some post-Morbia Massacre visits to him that I don't know about. O.o; (Once again, you have to read Bestia's fic 'More Than Meets the Eye".)

No, he would not just jump back into his old self right after what he's been through. Can you say, "Permanently Traumatized"? It'll take him months to start acting relatively normal let alone get back completely to his old self at all. He'll be remembering a few more things when he's reminded of them, like all the other battles, and he'll remember that something he had become very accustomed to is now missing. Can you guess what he's missing? I'll give you a cookie!

* * *

Iago was restless. Something just wasn't right in the palace. Jasmine was acting more like the Sultana from hell than anything else every time Aladdin's name was mentioned. She screamed and ranted, making furious gestures as she stormed through the palace, making any in her path jump back in fright that they would be struck and press themselves against the wall until they were well out of reaching distance and she turned a corner or could no longer be seen. The Sultana was giving a show to the servants and guards that the parrot knew all too well would have made Jafar stand up and applaud, had he been there to see it.

Aladdin had done something she definitely didn't approve of, and Iago was as guilty of it as Aladdin was. Which also made him a prime target. Whenever he flew within ten feet of the ground lately either Jasmine would throw something at him or Rajah would pounce on him, growling because his mistress was so displeased. Iago severely doubted even Aladdin would be spared a good open-clawed swipe from the beast until the supposedly happy couple kissed and made up.

Supposedly being the key word here.

Iago thought going straight to the source of the problem would simplify things immeasurably, so he took a sharp left and headed for Aladdin's favorite hiding place… the roof over the guest house.

Iago hadn't seen Aladdin since they got separated in the battle, but now that they were all back in Agrabah it was quite obvious that Jasmine was mad about more than just the attack. The numbers had been calculated, and they had lost 300 men in the battle, but had saved over 100,000. More people were locked away deep inside that city and in the palace than could have been imagined. Even the guards had their own section of the harem. In the seediest of the harem rooms people were packed so tightly that the air was almost too thick to breathe. When the soldiers and townspeople had tried to feed the emaciated slaves some of them died simply from the strain of trying to digest the food. Their bodies had deteriorated that much.

Iago couldn't understand this. Not even after working for a dark sorcerer most of his life could he imagine such things having taken place. If you're going to kill someone, that was one thing, but that... It was demonic, for lack of a better word. Not even Jafar would have been capable of such things.

But then, you never know what power will do to people. Those who began their search for power sometimes did so because they wanted to feel superior to, even on a higher plane than other people. And when people like that are given the power they need to achieve their goals, sometimes they just cease to be human. They become monsters.

There was no way Jasmine could possibly be upset about Aladdin rescuing those poor people, even if he had disobeyed a direct order. On top of that the bird had been listening in on the old jackals in the council, and overheard something about Aladdin making a good move for once. Apparently, the political standpoint of the council now was that they had never been happier to be proven wrong.

Iago, understandably, found this a bit odd. Even his outstanding spying skills had been useless in determining exactly what this meant. And so he had decided to seek out Aladdin, and see if they couldn't collectively determine what the Queen bitch of the universe was so damned pissed about, and what was going on with the committee. Maybe then he could think of some good political advice to give to the kid.

Sure enough, he found the Sultan brooding at his usual spot, laying down on the roof just inside the shadow provided by the overhang of a balcony on the palace above. Iago flittered and squawked, trying to get his attention… and cheer him up a bit. Aladdin managed a weak smile in Iago's direction, then leaned his head back in his crossed arms. The parrot landed gently on the boy's shoulder and poked his ear with his beak.

"Hey, Al. Jas is being a right bitch about something. You know what it is, so tell me." he demanded of the Sultan. Aladdin frowned immediately at the 'bitch' comment, but he agreed wholeheartedly that she was. He sighed when the parrot poked him again at the delay in answering.

"I saw the horrible things being done in there." he started, his voice strained and cracking as if he hadn't had anything to drink in days. Knowing how long he and Jasmine had been screaming at each other last night and most of the morning made Iago think just how awful the fights must have been. Aladdin was even sporting a pretty good hand-shaped mark on his neck. The Sultana was physically abusive when she got riled, not many knew that. And she was a lot stronger in the hands than any but those who had been subjected to her wrath would give her credit for.

Aladdin may have slapped her once in his lifetime, but she hit him quite frequently. And he always did his best to hide it when she actually injured him. Iago knew it happened, but there was no way to tell just how bad it was. Aladdin wouldn't allow it.

Aladdin took a breath before continuing. "It made me ill to know it even existed, that humans were capable of such a heinous act of perversion… I just couldn't stand by and allow it, even without permission from the 'Sultana'…" he spat the word like a profanity. "…I had to get them out of there." Aladdin paused, sitting up and groaning, rubbing his face to clear it of sweat. "When I got to the doors, I could hear them all screaming. There was so much blood... I actually slipped on it there was so much. It was running down the stairs behind me like a river. When we got the doors open... they were all dead. All of them in that entrance hall were in pieces. You'd be amazed how many of them were just children…" Aladdin paused to steady his voice, and wiped his sodden face. "So many in that horrid place were already dead or dying… Do you know how many more would have died in there if I had listened to the decision from those pampered advisors? Too many for me, Iago."

Iago moved a wing to his own face and wiped off a few tears with his feathers. It took him a few moments for all this to sink in, even though he had smelled the metallic pang of blood in the air before they left that he knew had nothing to do with the battleground outside.

"So the bitch queen is pissed at you for doing something heroic? What else is new? That can't possibly be it." he squawked.

"You're right, Iago. It's not just that. The slaves were all sent back to their homes… all but the one. We don't even know what he is, let alone where he comes from. I had no other choice than to bring him back here, I couldn't just leave him somewhere alone." Aladdin explained, trying not to sound too much like he had simply wanted to keep the feline creature. He sighed. "Jasmine saw how pretty he is when the guards brought him in with me, and she flipped."

So that was it! Jasmine was jealous of a slave? A male slave? The very idea was so humorous that the parrot nearly laughed himself right off the roof. Aladdin glared at him.  
"It's not funny." he stated flatly.

"Like hell it isn't funny! She's all worked up over a harem slave? That's the most hilarious thing I've ever heard!" he snickered a few more times before quieting down, noting the thoroughly unamused looks he was receiving from his friend. "Erm... so, where is he?"

"In the guest house. Jasmine won't allow him inside the Palace at all. I'm actually up here to make sure the guards don't go in and terrorize the poor thing. He's scared enough already. He won't even let me touch him without cringing or tensing... He's eating, but only when I'm there to make him, and it's not nearly enough to help him get well. He never looks at me, won't talk even to tell me his name, and he isn't sleeping much at all as far as I know. I just don't know what to do with him. Nothing I try is working." Aladdin groaned and lay back down, hitting his head on the roof tiles with a soft 'thud'.

"Let me talk to him, kid. Like it or not, you're a Sultan now. I'm not surprised he's scared of you. I think I can get him to talk to me. Birds aren't really all that threatening." Aladdin smiled and shook his head.

"Iago… I think he's mute."

"I don't think so. I think he just doesn't want to talk. He probably wasn't allowed to before, and now that he is it's a big change. He might be afraid you'll change your mind and punish him for it at the first opportunity." He flitted away a few feet, then hovered for a moment. "Don't worry, Al. He'll talk to me, and I'll get him better for you."

"Thank you, Iago." Aladdin smiled at him.

"Hey, I almost forgot. What happened with the committee?"

"I was commended."

The parrot nodded once and dove down to the window, feeling the grateful look sent his way.

* * *

Mozenrath was finally getting a little well needed sleep when he awoke quite suddenly for no apparent reason. It was unusual for this to happen to him, he knew, so there must have been a cause. He sat up and looked around the room he was in, determined not to miss a thing. His suspicious nature of all those around him had returned, however the emotion caused by this familiar suspicious attitude was no longer anger. It was fear.

Mozenrath had been treated extremely well, especially for a slave, since he had arrived in Agrabah. Though the actual arrival had been... alarming to say the very least, Sultan Aladdin had clearly gone out of his way to keep the beauteous feline safe and comfortable. Evan while the Sultan himself seemed to be in a world of trouble.

From the moment they had arrived Mozenrath had been thrust into Aladdin's world with no way to hold himself up against it. The Sultana frightened him to no end. She had obviously been tearing around the Palace like a Griffin on a warpath, and Aladdin had been caught under her claws a few times in the process. The mark on his neck was unmistakable as anything else than the result of a, if not serious, then threatening attempt at strangulation. After seeing this Mozenrath had been brave enough to reach his hand out and touch just below the mark on his master's neck in question.

It had earned him a sharp look, and his reaction to it had the Sultan worried. After all, how often does a single look warrant enough fear to send another creature scrambling back away from you? Aladdin, it seemed, was starting to understand the extent of the damage done to Mozenrath. If he hadn't been so caught up in his own problems he would have been better at finding a solution. However, that was not the case.

Aladdin had put up an impressive front that would have convinced anyone, had they not been themselves the subject of abuse. It was obvious to Mozenrath that his situation with the Sultana hurt him, and that he was doing his best to keep everyone in the dark. Mozenrath had no doubts whatsoever that Jasmine had done more than that little mark on Aladdin's neck... that if Aladdin lifted his shirt you would see bruises and scratches all over his torso and back. But Mozenrath wouldn't, couldn't do anything about it. And that fact tore him up from the inside.

And it was this that had revealed to Mozenrath just how very much he had changed. The part of him that remembered aspiring to rule the seven deserts rejoiced knowing that Aladdin was in trouble, but the rejoicing was so quiet and subdued that it could barely be heard at all. Evan though it was still there, it was as close to nonexistent as you could get while still knowing it was there. The emotion he felt knowing that the man who had saved his life and even his soul was being reprimanded for doing just that made him feel sick. In fact, it was so strong that Mozenrath found himself unable to eat unless Aladdin was there to coax him to do so.

It was dangerous to both of them.

Mozenrath pulled his legs up against his chest, leaning his chin on his knee to look around the room. He had seen nothing that could have woken him, but that didn't mean that nothing was there. All that meant was that he was unable to find the source at that time. He didn't have to wait long for his answer though, as he soon spotted a red and blue parrot peeking down at him from the wardrobe above him. It had been well camouflaged by the colored pillows behind it, and the little clacking noises it made as it chewed on its beak and tilted it's head from side to side curiously had obviously been why Mozenrath had woken so suddenly.

The bird looked familiar, and with its presence brought an odd feeling in the pit of his slightly sunken stomach. It squawked once and glided soundlessly down next to him, attempting to land on his shoulder. Mozenrath reacted as if stung, jerking out of the way and the bird landed on the pillows instead.

"Awfully jumpy, aren't you?" came a scratchy and suddenly very familiar voice.

Mozenrath's eyes widened. This was... oh, hell! What was his name? The bird that was always one of Aladdin's little team of heroes at every fight. Iago! The realization made him bite his lip. No doubt this parrot would figure out who he was quickly if he wasn't very careful.

"Can you speak?" Iago asked, tilting his head once again almost in challenge. He seemed to get annoyed when Mozenrath didn't answer. After walking a bit closer until Mozenrath seemed to want to back up, he asked again. "I said, can you speak? You don't have to tell me, just nod or shake your head."

His tone was commanding. This bird was obviously close to Aladdin, and he might tell if he didn't obey and answer him. Mozenrath wasn't sure of his master's moods yet, and it made him fearful. Perhaps that would be enough to earn him a swift penalty? Hesitantly, he nodded once.

Iago looked the cat up and down, noting that just that one small criticism was enough to make him very nervous. His hair was unclasped, midnight black and loosely curled, and went all the way to the pillows he sat upon and pooled around him silkily. His eyes were, if possible, even darker than his hair and reminded him of seemingly bottomless pools of ink. Ears and tail were black as well, but so deep a color that they almost reflected blue. The skin was as white as could be, standing out starkly from the rest of his features and making them stand out from it just as much.

He had been dressed in a nice outfit obviously tailored to fit him. Rather than a dark shade that seemed to match his appearance, it was a light shade of blue that complimented him and made him stand out apart from his clothes. He wore proper trousers and a long tunic style shirt with long sleeves that was tied at the waist, and what a waist it was, with a silvery grey sash. His slender hands peeked out almost meekly from underneath the sleeves, but only up to the roots of his long harp-player's fingers.

No makeup had been applied, though it would have made no difference really. As it was you could have mistaken him for a girl even with your hand on his crotch. He was no doubt breathtaking and seemed to want to be held and comforted, but at the same time he radiated a powerful 'don't touch me' vibe.

It was nothing less than confusing.

Iago nodded approvingly, hoping that would comfort him a little. Approval was the surest sign that you were not in any immediate danger, and it tended to calm most creatures. It worked to an extent, the sharp and tense line of the creatures shoulders relaxing minutely.

Then again, sometimes frightening your slaves will make them behave better than actually disciplining them. Aladdin wasn't one to do that, but Iago was positive it would work with this one.

"The Sultan tells me you're stubborn." The reaction was immediate. The ears went flat against the head, and the tail curled tightly about the base of the cat. His head bowed, and he trembled. "Why will you not speak to him? He said he asked your name, and you did not answer. Why?"

Mozenrath's chest ached. He had made Aladdin angry with him... no, he had made his Master angry with him. That was not to be tolerated. He was afraid to speak though. His voice would be hard to forget for the hero, and if he were identified, especially in this city... He shuddered. Perhaps... if he could get away with whispering...

"I... I was afraid..." he admitted truthfully, keeping his face away from the parrot's gaze.

"Because you weren't allowed to speak at all before? Is that why?" Iago pressed, and he did not acknowledge the head shake he got in return to his question. "Say it." he demanded.

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

Mozenrath flinched. "Yes, that is why... I could not talk before... I'm sorry."

"That's ok. Just be sure to do what the Sultan says from now on." Iago smiled. This was working beautifully. "Now, what's your name?" he asked.

Mozenrath couldn't suppress his gasp. But the bird was waiting patiently for his answer. Making a quick decision, he blurted out, "Auset... my name is Auset."

"Auset? Never heard that one before. What does it mean?"

"Nothing... Mas- no... My last Master just made it up." he supplied, before realizing he had made a grave error. He bit his lip for the next question.

"You had a name before that?"

Mozenrath gulped. "I..." he paused... "...don't remember."

"Hn." Iago huffed, obviously not believing him. "Fine. I'll go see if I can't find the Tiger."

"No!" Mozenrath yelped, then drew back in surprise at his own voice. It had been loud, and it didn't sound like him at all. His voice had changed? Well, that settles that problem. It sounded more silken and a bit higher, resembling a cat's call more than a human chord. It was beautiful.

For a moment this seemed to enchant the parrot as well, but he recovered quickly. "You are insolent. Tell me your name."

Finding new courage, Mozenrath glared at the bird. "No." he said again.

"Why not?" the demand was strict and clear. But Mozenrath did not back down. He'd be damned if he was going to cower to a parrot!

"Because YOU are not my Master!" he let out sharply. For a moment Iago glared at him, and some of the courage left. He almost squirmed in his seat, but kept still lest he show weakness and lose his nerve in the eyes of the bird. Then a laugh came, and he started.

"You've got guts. All I had to do was help you find them. Aladdin will be down soon. He wants to tell you what happened at his trial, if you could call it that. I suggest you get your story straight before he gets here."


	10. Of Human Skin

Again - this story is old. I am fixing and posting it again. That's why the updates are so fast. I don't normally write this quickly.

* * *

Jasmine walked around restlessly inside her almost cage-like linen hanging arrangement around her marital bed. True, it wasn't much of a marital bed as of late, since Aladdin seemed to have taken her ordering him around like just another guard personally. Something which, in her mind, he had absolutely no right to do. They hadn't even been in the same room for four days, save when they got together to 'talk', or fight more accurately, putting on a spectacular show that the servants would be babbling about and beaten for, for years to come.

Being the regal quintessence of beauty and feminine perfection that she was, it was hard for her to imagine him having the right to be so upset about all this. He HAD gotten his way after all, even after being denied TWICE! He had gone ahead and done something he had been explicitly forbidden to do, and had even been allowed to keep his head afterwards.

Yet, even after hearing her side of the argument over and over, he hadn't recanted his own. And this was what had shown to her that something was very wrong in their relationship. It had been years since she hadn't gotten her way. In fact, it had been more than that. She had been getting her way for the past... well, twenty some years of her life. Even when it had appeared that she wasn't getting anything special, Aladdin, her father, and even the guards and servants had gone out of their way to ensure she had everything her little heart desired.

Aladdin on his part, was getting more out of life then he rightly should considering his roots. He ought to be grateful for what he was allowed. He was married to a princess, and got to live in a palace, father royal children and be regarded highly by the people he had grown up with down in the streets. He was always guaranteed hot food, cool drinks, nice clothes, good medicine and every luxury he desired.

So why couldn't he just be happy with that?

But no! He has to go off and play hero. He has to steal HER peasants and go off to fight wars without HER permission, deny HER political intelligence and above all, upstage her in front of her very own citizens! He has to prove with his every word and action, that SHE is not enough to keep him happy. Nothing she has or can later provide him with is quite enough. He has to be a hero. He has to forsake all his accomplishments, everything SHE had fought for on his behalf, to go off blood soaked and honor bound, to rescue people that are not people at all according to HER laws!

Scratch that, he went off to retrieve mistreated livestock. Nothing more.

She hated to admit it, but she sort of understood how he felt.

Or she thought she understood how he felt... even though the closest thing to being ordered around she'd experienced outside of enemy capture was her nannies and father telling her to 'go to her room, and stay there'. The pang of jealousy at lacking the power to do that herself and the knowledge that she had somehow been betrayed simply because of her age and gender was excruciating to say the least. What she didn't understand was why in the hell he hadn't come to her and apologized for disobeying her yet. Usually a few days of not being allowed to share her bed with her had him following her around with his tongue hanging out like a begging puppy wanting a treat for being good.

Could it be he was actually making his new slave useful?

That she couldn't tolerate. Disobeying her, sure. Almost starting a war over a bunch of slaves, okay. Slapping her and yelling back at her in front of servants and guards, tolerable... if frustrating. But this?

Hell no.

Not in HER palace. HER city! How DARE he even think he was allowed so much as a harem girl without his wife's permission? There was nothing she could do about it now though. After being commended by the committees for once again snatching victory from the jaws of defeat like the good little hero he was, there was no way she could personally risk a political scandal by ordering the Sultan to get rid of one of his own slaves. Which by law he was allowed to own regardless of class, or what his wife may have to say on the matter. Something like that could be... disastrous to say the least. Especially with a league of Ambassadors from Agrabah's allied countries on their way to discuss the Demon King's defeat with Aladdin.

Sultana or not, she couldn't risk emasculating her husband in front of them, especially when she needed him to keep in control of her city.

She knew very well that a woman is not allowed to rule on her own, because that would prevent the production of the little royal babies that everyone took so much stock in. It would also prove that a woman is just as capable as a man in that area, and that couldn't be had, lest the women in the cities get the dangerous ideas about not being owned as their husband's and father's property into their pretty little heads.

No male royal in the world would allow that to happen, for fear of losing their power, and soon after their ability to hold an erection. Because that's what it was all about right? Power. Domination. OWNERSHIP.

(At this point the author would like to state that, while in good knowledge about feminist ideals, Jas is only thinking about herself here. Not the human condition, and as such, not about slaves.)

She sat and pouted on her bed, anger and betrayal burning in her gut, pondering her strategy carefully. And after several minutes of coming up with many gruesome, painful, and normally uncharacteristically creative ways to kill the little cat-thing he'd drug with him into her life, she grinned.

There was definitely one person she knew with a long-held grudge against Aladdin who would be more than happy to make his new pet feel... more at home. Spraying a bit of strong perfume under her eyes to make them water and redden, she yelled at the door for her favorite guard.

* * *

Razoul stepped just inside the door to the guest house, having used one of the many hidden tunnels throughout the entirety of the palace grounds to get on the porch without the Sultan seeing him. The boy was still up on the roof no doubt, chatting with that infernal bird. Cautiously he stepped past the threshold and around the curtain there, keeping well out of sight of the sleeping quarters where the new slave lie.

He barely had to try to be discreet anymore, having been doing his job so very well for the past thirty years now. Nearly every tunnel was memorized and kept safe in his mental catalog. The only one that might possibly know more about the tunnels and passages in, around, and under the Palace might be the parrot, who had made an incredible effort to find them all after the incident with the fire breathing imp.

Though still Captain of the Royal Guard, Razoul was obligated to obey the Sultana, who was of pure blood, over the Sultan at all times. This he had no qualms with. None at all. Not when it kept him from having to listen to a street rat like he was better than him. Which, of course, he wasn't. So, when a rather irate Sultana called to him and told him to go and 'show the slave his place', he happily went to fulfill his duty to her.

Razoul had been there when Aladdin had returned from his little moral expedition. There to drag him back to the palace in chains once more. By Allah, that had been a rush. One of the finest moments of his career actually. One doesn't forget the opportunity to drag one's own Sultan down the streets of his own city. He would be having pleasant dreams about that for years to come.

It didn't matter why his Sultana wanted the street rat's new pet taught a lesson. Though the slave itself hadn't done a thing to warrant such treatment, such was his lot in life, and Razoul had no right nor want to question it. The slave's very presence made the Sultana upset, and Razoul knew better than to cross swords, figuratively or otherwise, with a jealous woman.

Especially when that woman had the power to have his head if he dared.

He slunk around another corner, catching his first sight of the slave without a cloak over him to keep him out of the sun. Aladdin had apparently been in a hurry to make his pet more comfortable. It's clothes were unique, tailored to fit and beautifully colored. It wore only a small amount of makeup, but more than enough to make it more than pretty. It's hair was caught up in a loose braid, tied off at the end with a ribbon taken off a nearby vase.

His eyes widened, and he grinned.

Suddenly, the prospect of subjugating the new slave had become MUCH more appealing.

It sat on a pile of overstuffed pillows near the back window, preening its tail. Watching the supple and slender fingers move suggestively over the appendage, smoothing out the fur and fingering the delicate silver ring near the tip made Razoul shudder with anticipation.

This was going to be fun.

Careful still to avoid being seen, he slipped into the room when the slave turned its head to look out the window, then came closer every second or so until he was within three feet. The ears flattened and it turned about with wide eyes, mouth agape in shock. It heard as well as a cat apparently. He grinned maliciously and took another step, lips curving even more at the frightened little sound it emitted.

"Don't worry, pet. This won't take long."

* * *

Aladdin was up on the roof chatting with Iago about Auset when he heard him scream. The sound was piercing and spoke of several levels of pain. He was immediately brought to action by the sound. They both went down to the room as fast as they could, Aladdin leaping agile and practiced down the walls and Iago flying as fast as he could. They were apparently not fast enough to stop what had upset him so. At the doorway Aladdin stopped, shocked into stillness by the horrid sight that greeted him.

Razoul was laying on Auset, pinning him down with one big hand capturing his wrists crossed over his chest and pushing down so hard it seemed the poor creature was no longer able to breathe. His legs were locked tight around Auset's and no amount of struggling would free him.

His face was twisted into a pitiful and horrified expression, tears streaming down his blanched cheeks.

Yelling in rage, Aladdin flung himself at the burly guard, not able to topple him, but able to knock him off-balance enough for Auset to scramble out from underneath him and back off away from the fight. Iago yelled and grasped a good amount of the man's hair in his claws and pulled as hard as he could as Aladdin had his arms wrapped around Razoul's neck to try and cut off his air.

Razoul wasn't fazed by this much. He HAD gone through Agrabah's toughest training regimens. There was no way a bird and a boy not even half his size was going to beat him. He reached behind him, knocking Iago out of his hair, and grasped the back of his Sultan's clothes, flinging him to the wall in front of him. The sound the boy made as the wind was knocked out of him was music to his ears.

Aladdin hit the floor hard, and shook his head, trying to get his bearings back. It was difficult though. His head felt like it was full of hot water, and he was still trying to push himself up when Razoul lifted a big fist to strike him...

* * *

Mozenrath shrieked and tried desperately to jerk himself out of the big guard's grasp. It had no effect on him. Razoul was just way too strong for him. Mozenrath closed his eyes and whined, suddenly struck with the painful realization that once again, someone was laying on top of him against his will... and there was nothing he could do about it.. He tried to push himself off of the pillows and onto the floor in hopes that the sudden change in height will cause the big man to lose his grip on him and he can run for his Master, but it didn't work. Razoul's too heavy, he can't go anywhere.

He shrieks again when his wrists are caught in a vice-like grasp and are pushed down on his chest, making all the air 'whoosh' out of his lungs. Mozenrath tried to take a breath and failed, chest burning from the constricting pressure. Tears began to well up, stinging his face. There was nothing he could do.

_He's going to kill me! Aladdin! Master, help!_

As if in answer to his thoughts, something suddenly barreled into Razoul hard in the side, knocking him off balance just enough for him to lose his grip on the struggling feline. After taking in a much needed gasp of air, Mozenrath took the chance to scurry away. When he looked back his eyes met a horrid sight. Aladdin and Iago were trying to fight off the enormous man with little progress, and Mozenrath watched in horror as Aladdin hit the wall, then fell to the floor with a loud 'thud'. He was trying to get up, but Razoul raised a fist to strike him, no doubt with incredible force.

Mozenrath screamed. "NO!"

And at that word his hand began to burn. He looked at it in amazement, time having seemed to slow enough for him to watch the unfolding battle in slow-motion. The skin was glowing a familiar tint of blue. But it didn't hurt... it was just very warm. Power was flooding out from his regenerated skin, ready to strike down his Master's attacker. But it just didn't make any sense to him. His power had never been able to work its way out from his human skin properly...

Then it hit him.

HUMAN skin! This was no longer human skin! It had been magically regenerated, and as such magic would flow through it as easily as did the gauntlet. He could use his magic again! But he didn't have time to think on it too much, as that big fist was on it's way down...

Counting on instincts to guide him to save Aladdin, Mozenrath hissed, fangs bared, ears back, tail set straight. He raised his hand, clawed his fingers, and with a great feline roar brought it down.

Power leapt from his fingertips in the shape of blue steel-like scimitar blades. They resembled Mirage's claw-like magical projectiles, but with a twist distinctive to her son alone... now that he was able to use them. They were framed in blue-black flames, and much more curved, with a very clawed warp at the top.

They rushed forward at an impossible speed, hitting Razoul in the chest with enough force to send him flying back five feet into a pillar. Blood splattered the wall and floor where he had been with the distinctive slapping sound of liquid hitting a solid surface at incredible speed. Razoul slumped at his place leaning on the pillar, gasping for breath that would not enter his mangled lungs, and breathing out his lifeblood in the process.

He jerked and twitched in his final moments, writhing inwardly in agony while seemingly impossible amounts of liquid poured onto the floor in diminishing spurts. Too much of it was flowing out of the masculine man's chest for him to possibly survive the next few seconds, and it was hard to believe that the impact hadn't killed him already. He tried to scream... failed, then closed his eyes and ceased all movement. Less than a second later he completely went lax, leaning forward just enough for his weight to balance out so he wouldn't fall over.

The blood flow slowed to a trickle, no longer fueled by a living heart.

Seeing the grotesque and quite obviously fatal effects of his newfound power, Mozenrath backed up, collapsing onto his knees. His eyes widened impossibly, tears welling up in them. He scrambled away from the puddle seeping close to him, crying out and leaping to the windowsill to escape the vile fluid. His breathing hitched in panic, gasps emanating from him sounding so wretched you'd have thought he had taken the life of a very dear friend.

He hadn't meant to kill the man. He had promised himself he would never kill anyone again, after learning firsthand what that kind of suffering was like. Mozenrath had only thought of Aladdin, and what would happen to him if he didn't do something... ANYTHING to stop his attacker. Quite frankly, had he time to think about his actions beforehand he might not have done it at all, instead most likely vying for a less intense method of retaliation.

Too late.

Horrified at what he had done, Mozenrath grabbed hold of his ears with a fierce grip and screamed.

Birds in the yards scattered and flew off, chattering at him angrily. Even confined to the harsh squeezing of his hands, Mozenrath's ears still picked up the sound of Aladdin moving. Thoughts of the punishments that were sure to come from this flashed through his head, and he swallowed the breath he had been holding after his scream.

With growing dread he looked over to where Aladdin was getting to his feet, looking pale and shocked to the body. He went over to it, shielding his nose from the fresh scent of human blood spreading steadily across the floor in a deep, almost black crimson puddle. Razoul was most definitely dead.

And Aladdin was turning to Mozenrath.

Aladdin couldn't believe it when he saw the flashes of blue-black fire soar above his head and into Razoul. They seemed to not only cut into him, but encourage blood to fly out of the wounds as if it had been under terrible pressure and was just waiting to escape the confine of his skin. When they reached his ribcage they seemed to stop cutting, pushing instead to send him hurtling out of Aladdin's view.

So shocked was the young Sultan that the sickening sound of a bleeding body hitting marble did not affect him. Nor did the little gurgling sounds the guard emitted as he died a no doubt painful and slow death. What did jar him awake, was the inhuman scream that came from Auset.

He looked over from his position on the floor just in time to see him sitting in the windowsill, crying and gripping his ears so tightly he feared the poor thing may tear them off in his shocked state. An instant later his concern for the slave took second to the sudden realization of exactly what he had just seen, and he rose to help the fallen man, foul though he may be.

Seasoned warrior or not, he hated the sight and smell of death... especially when mingled with the underlying lingering fear of a recent one. Stepping closer was a mistake, and he had to bring up his sleeve to shield his nose from the overpowering scent. The guard was long gone. There was no saving him.

Nor was there a cause for upset.

Guard or not, Razoul had struck him, his Sultan, then attempted to strike him again. He had done so with intent to harm and perhaps even kill. He had attempted to deface the Sultan's property, and above all, Aladdin just plain didn't like the man. Death at the block would have been more merciful, but no less final for the him.

And Aladdin most definitely would have ordered it. Especially after what he had tried to do to...

Aladdin turned. "Auset."

The reaction was violent and immediate. The petite feline cried out pitifully, then jumped down to the other side of the window sill, kneeling on the marble patio outside. He lay his face down on the sill itself and covered his head with his arms, trembling something awful. He didn't just expect death for such an act. He expected pain and suffering for a very long time, and then death. Something that Aladdin just wasn't capable of giving, even if it had been deserved.

And it most certainly was not deserved.

The way he saw it, he had been defended, and quite well, by Auset. Razoul was not going to stop until he had killed him, Aladdin was quite sure of that. Nor would he have stopped his sick manipulation of Auset until he had killed the poor thing as well. And at least now he had a pretty good idea of where the unusual creature had come from.

He had unquestionably recognized that attack.

He came closer to Mozenrath, each footfall making the creature whine and twitch as if it were whip snaps he was hearing and not the soft sound of leather on tile. He came close enough to touch and knelt, putting a hand on Mozenrath's head. Aladdin ignored the cringe and ran his fingers through the ebony strands, curling around the base of the ears gently.

"Auset, don't be afraid. You did good." he soothed. The creature jerked away from his touch as if he had been stung. He shook his head violently, muttering a never-ending mantra of, 'no no no no...'. Aladdin sighed and let go of Mozenrath's hair, walking out the door and around to stand behind the trembling form. "Auset..." he started again, reaching out. He knelt down behind him and let his hand down on his back.

Mozenrath let out a gasping whine, arching his back away from the touch. Just as Aladdin opened his mouth to try and console him again Mozenrath erupted into a flurry of apologies. The first of it was clearly in Egyptian, but soon enough he seemed to realize his mistake and switched to Arabian.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to kill him, it was an accident! Master was in danger and I just reacted and I'll never do it again just please have-mercy-for-me-please-master-please?"

Somewhere in the middle of the last part that had merged into one long word, Mozenrath had turned to Aladdin and buried his face in the Sultan's chest, grasping his shirt so tightly in his thin hands they had turned white from the pressure. Aladdin took a few seconds to process what his Auset had said, then smiled.

"You're not in trouble." Aladdin assured him firmly.

Mozenrath shook his head against the pristine material. There was no possible way he wouldn't be punished for what he had done. If not by Aladdin, then by Jasmine. Try as he might there was no way Aladdin could protect him from the Sultana's wrath forever. All he was hoping for now was that he would somehow be lucky enough to escape death.

Aladdin sighed and looped his arms under Mozenrath, then picked him up and took him inside to a different room. This was certainly NOT the way he had planned the afternoon to go. Mozenrath seemed to have lost all motor skills, and was limply allowing Aladdin to do anything he wanted with him. The only thing he dared to do was stay sitting upright when he was set upon the chair by the ivory vanity. Aladdin sighed and kneeled down in front of him, grasping his hands and looking upwards into wide and anxious ebony eyes that refused to lock onto his. Aladdin chuckled. It felt rather odd to be looking at averted eyes... even though he really should have been used to it by now.

It had been over an hour since Iago had left Mozenrath, and he'd been given ample time to muse over his current situation and worry. Too much time for a suspicious mind was dangerous, doubly so since said mind was aware that his secret was already known to one certain blue Djinn. The question that burned in his mind with the most force was whether or not Aladdin would react violently now that he had quite obviously discovered Mozenrath's identity.

The thought made him shudder, and Mozenrath bowed his head and waited for Aladdin to make the first move.

Mozenrath cringed when he moved to pet him, ears going flat in an instant. Aladdin's reaction was unexpected, and Mozenrath had to risk a glance up at him to confirm what he had just heard.

"I've already said that I'm not angry with you, Auset. I don't like to repeat myself. Honestly, I'm disappointed that you don't trust me."

Mozenrath whined, the word 'disappointed' hitting home. He had heard it so many times before that it struck his very soul with the force of a whip's sting on his back, which in most cases was the exact thing that followed the word. Aladdin's hand curled lightly in between the delicately curved ears into black hair and he moved to kneel to the side of him, smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging way.

Mozenrath avoided looking at him, fear making him foolish and shy. If Aladdin hadn't noticed who he was by now... he really was a moron. But the thought gnawed at him. So much so that he actually resisted when that hand went to his chin and coaxed him to turn toward his master.

Aladdin sighed, the irritated sound making Mozenrath start and quickly comply with the light but insistent tug from the hand cupped over his face. The hand quickly left and Aladdin scooted closer to him, almost touching now.

"Hey." he said, putting an arm around Mozenrath's shoulders. "I'm not mad at you." Mozenrath nodded in acknowledgement of that. Obviously. If Aladdin WERE mad at him... he shuddered again, then bowed his head.

"Auset, I'm going to be blunt." Aladdin began. "I know of another being that can use her claws in a similar manner to you. I want you to tell me if you know a black cat woman by the name of Mirage."


	11. Djinn

"M-Mirage..." he stammered lightly, still trying to disguise his voice. How was he to escape this one? He was not able to lie to him. Telling half truths to his master was one thing, but lying? He knew he couldn't do it without getting caught. Somberly Mozenrath wished that lying was one skill he had retained before his capture. "Yes, Master. I know of her." he admitted sourly, the sound of the woman's name still festering in his mouth.

Aladdin scowled, and Mozenrath wished he had the knowledge of whether or not he could levitate away. The man's hand raised for a second, and Mozenrath feared he would be struck... but at the last second Aladdin put his hand down, as if it had been a matter of principle just to frighten his slave at that moment. "Auset, never EVER call me that again." the Sultan stated fiercely.

When Auset had been begging forgiveness, Aladdin had not noticed that he was using the hated term to address him. His sole concern was for Auset's reassurance. However, now that he had heard it in normal speech, even mingled with a sour tone he couldn't place, Aladdin's heart clenched in anger. He'd be damned if anyone was going to use that word as a designation for HIM.

Confused, Mozenrath looked at him oddly. "Mas-"

"NO!" Aladdin roared, so much so that Mozenrath actually fell to his knees and grasped the other man's legs in apology on instinct. He heard Aladdin sigh and felt him move to kneel down, so he backed away. "Auset, I'm sorry I shouted at you." Aladdin said, now at eye-level with him. "It must be hard for you to understand this after all you've been through, but I despise being called _that_, and I _will_ punish you if you do it again, understood?"

Mozenrath nodded. No way, after punishment had been promised, was he going to disobey that one. He'd learned the hard way that such an action is not at all wise, no matter the amount of pride lost in doing so. There was a dilemma now though. If his master did not wish to be called 'master', then what in the worlds should he call him? Mozenrath thought carefully how to phrase his next question.

He knew he was always supposed to address his master with the appropriate term when he spoke, if he was permitted to speak at all at the time. Forgetting to do so earned reprimand. However now Mozenrath had nothing to address Aladdin by, therefore he shouldn't speak to him at all lest he get the question wrong and offend him. Still, since he was well aware of the fact that he was not only allowed to speak in Aladdin's presence, but nearly REQUIRED to speak he needed to know desperately what term he should use.

Quite a dilemma indeed.

Within the two seconds it took Mozenrath to ponder this, Aladdin had realized that his Auset was uncomfortable with what he had just said, if only minutely. "Auset, when we are alone you may call me Aladdin, but when outside and in the presence of others call me Sultan, or don't speak at all. I'll let you judge who you should and shouldn't speak in front of, since you seem smart enough to gauge people well, am I right?" Aladdin had begun his instructions with a stern tone, but when he finished with his compliment his voice was softer, much more indulgent of Mozenrath's situation.

It made the feline blush.

"Yes... Aladdin..." he stammered softly. Mozenrath inwardly cursed his recently well trained mind. He still felt as if he were doing terrible wrong to the man just saying the name. No matter how many battles he had been in with this man, no matter how many times he had shouted that name meaning it as an insult or worse, he still felt dirty using his master's name. Even if he was an old enemy, even if he was Aladdin.

It, quite simply, was no longer his place.

But the smile he earned in return for his nervous utterance of it was more than enough reward for him. Once again Mozenrath experienced that glow deep inside him for pleasing his master, only this time he hadn't had to go through considerable suffering to do it. He actually had the courage to offer a hesitant smile back.

"Very good, Auset. Now, back to Mirage..." Aladdin started. He had to ignore the wince. "How do you know her?"

Once again, Mozenrath knew he couldn't lie. It would be a betrayal of everything the man had gone through to help him. But still, these irritatingly logical questions were slowly leading Aladdin to the truth, that Mozenrath was not the new Sultan's beloved Auset, but a hated enemy in disguise. He did everything he could to fight the impulse to tell Aladdin the truth; biting his lip, holding his breath and fighting with all his might... but it still came out, however haltingly. "She's my... m-mother..."

The sharp intake of breath startled him. Mozenrath curled up and cringed when Aladdin laid his hands on his shoulders. "Do you mean it? Auset, are you absolutely positive?" Aladdin's voice was grave. If it was true, there was the chance that the woman would come to get her son, and destroy the city in the process. Aladdin wasn't entirely sure he was ready to handle that much trouble for his treasure, and it scared him that it was so.

How much he had changed since his eager days of heroics in his youth...

He nodded. "She... doesn't want me. Never did. You don't have to worry about her... I'm worthless to her. She's told me... many times." It hurt to say it. She was still his mother, and her treatment of him hadn't changed much at all since he was born. He was a tool, just like everyone else had used him in the past, so had she. "I'm not worth her trouble." he finished.

Aladdin sighed, relieved. "That's fine then. We will have to do something about that little impulse of yours though..." he thought out loud. Mozenrath waited patiently while Aladdin thought. He didn't want to argue with his master, if he thought that it would be better for his powers to be suppressed. "Maybe Genie could think of some way to..."

"...no..." less than a whisper.

"What?" Aladdin asked, startled.

"Aladdin... the Djinn frightens me... Please, I don't want him to touch me... please...?" he begged. The Djinn already knew his secret, and giving him free reign of Mozenrath's body to inspect him for ways to prevent his power being unleashed accidentally was sure to reveal the telltale line where his hand had been regenerated, and various light marks that had once been distinctive scars from his many battles with Aladdin. His identity would be unmistakable and unavoidable, even for Aladdin.

"He won't hurt you, Auset." Aladdin assured him. "What is it about him that scares you?"

"Many things." Mozenrath answered obediently, deciding to give roundabout replies to that. "Immortals can sense my magic... he doesn't like it... he doesn't like me. He says things just to scare me. I can tell he wants to scare me on purpose... He was doing it... in the carriages..." he's mumbling now. Aladdin is beginning to get worried. Even a trusted friend can't be perfect, and he'd have to address this accordingly if his slave was being threatened.

"Did he hurt you?" Aladdin asked.

Mozenrath recognized the question for what it was, a possible inquiry from Aladdin to the Djinn. It would make the Djinn angry to know Mozenrath was tattling on him, and that would get him caught as well. "N-no! He didn't... I'm sorry, mas- Aladdin! I must be paranoid is all... If you wish me to be examined, then I'll behave for him..." Mozenrath corrected himself quickly. He feared the Djinn greatly. Somehow he thought that even Aladdin wouldn't be able to stop the vengeful attitudes of a Djinn.

Aladdin didn't like the tone of that at all. It sounded like forced compliance that had been agreed upon beforehand... "It's fine. If he makes you nervous, I'll find another way to protect you from your powers, alright? He doesn't have to touch you." Then an idea struck him. "Unless, you believe you already have control over it?"

The suggestion was music to Mozenrath's twitching kitty-cat ears. Of course he could control it! That was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard, now that he realized they'd been talking about power he knew perfectly well he could summon at will. Perhaps he needed a bit of practice, but that was all. "Yes... Aladdin, I'm positive I can control it on my own. Back there that was..." he paused before he said 'accident', "Um... it was..." suddenly his voice got smaller.

"I was just trying to protect my mast-" Mozenrath clamped his hands over his mouth. It was SO HARD not to say it. He actually WANTED to! It was pissing him off that he had loathed saying it to all his other subjugators, but it seemed so RIGHT to want to say it to Aladdin!

Mozenrath felt a hand on his shoulder. "Old habits die hard, huh?" He looked up, into amused eyes. "I still don't approve of it, but I won't punish you if you slip once or twice, alright?"

Mozenrath nodded gratefully. "You're very kind to me, Aladdin. Thank you."

Aladdin sighed. He needed to have Razoul's body cleaned up... and have someone watch Auset while he explained to Jasmine what happened to him. Sighing he helped Auset to stand... he was still shaking from shock after what had just occurred in the other room. He had agreed that Auset wouldn't set foot in the palace, and he had to be out of the sun if he was going to be out for long periods of time...

Aladdin thought on this carefully. He couldn't have Genie watch him, as he'd already agreed to it before. So he came up with the only thing he could. "Auset, I need to get this mess cleaned up and explain what happened. I can't let you in the palace, but you can't stay here either."

Mozenrath bit his lip. "Where shall I go?"

"Follow me." Aladdin said, pulling Mozenrath by his sleeve the wall. Mozenrath was confused a moment, and then Aladdin pushed on a section of it near the floor and it fell away. There were tunnels under the guest house? Is that how the guard had gotten in without his master's knowledge? Mozenrath made a mental note to navigate those tunnels, and memorize each one even if it killed him.

Such things were dangerous to his master, and he intended to make them less of a threat.

Aladdin slid the panel open and let Mozenrath's sleeve go. "There's a tunnel in there." he said, and Mozenrath resisted the urge to say _'Well, obviously'_. "Stay hidden until I come for you, do you understand?"

Mozenrath nodded, and climbed into the little hole.

"I'll be back for you by sundown. Don't make any noise. I don't want the Sultana to find you, alright?" Aladdin explained. Mozenrath's eyes widened, suddenly understanding the severity of the situation.

"I'll stay. I'll wait here for you, Aladdin." he repeated obediently.

Aladdin pushed the stone back into place, and he was gone.

While he waited, Mozenrath had a scathing retort for that little voice in his head, the one that kept making him think things that could get him into trouble. _'Stop it._' he thought fiercely.

'_Why should I? You're not even a man anymore, so why shouldn't I help you get back to the way you were?'_ the voice drawled.

_'Because I don't want to be bad anymore... I don't want you to go away... you help me think clearly. But... just don't get me into trouble, okay?'_ he asked politely.

As difficult as it was to fool others, it was even harder to fool a part of yourself. But Mozenrath wasn't lying. _'Fine._' it answered. _'But you need to be more assertive. Keep up this act, and I'll have you drinking before the week is out.'_

Mozenrath shuddered. He hadn't before, but now he abhorred alcohol with as much passion as he abhorred punishment. _'Deal.'_ he grudgingly agreed. He'd just have to listen to that voice a bit more often... if only when he was secure his master wouldn't beat him.

* * *

Aladdin came for Mozenrath hours later. He'd been through hell and back, Mozenrath could tell. His hair was more of a mess than usual, and he appeared to be dizzy and swayed where he stood. Not to mention injured...

But Mozenrath was reassured that he wasn't in any danger and that Razoul had been laid to rest in the proper place. Mozenrath followed Aladdin back into his rooms, and was so tired from arguing with that voice that he limply allowed the exhausted man to tuck him in.

_'Say it!'_ the voice urged him.

Hesitantly, Mozenrath screwed up enough courage to voice his thoughts.

"Aladdin?" he asked nervously. Aladdin turned back to him with a questioning look on his face. "...forgive me... but..." Mozenrath swallowed. He couldn't do it... he just couldn't tell Aladdin he knew the Sultana was abusing him, so he settled for something more subtle. "...you should see to that wound on your shoulder..."

Aladdin looked angry for a moment, then his gaze wandered to the dripping patch of red on his right upper arm. "I will, Auset. Go to sleep." he ordered tersely. Feeling sick, Mozenrath nodded. He dare not say anything more.

'_Eh, good enough for now.'_ the voice admitted.

Mozenrath ignored it and closed his eyes.

* * *

Mozenrath awoke in the night in pain. He curled up as much as he could and clasped his hands behind his back tightly to avoid using them when he was not permitted. He had woken many nights like this since he had left Velven's harem, and there was a very simple reason for it.

When one trained such as Mozenrath to endure frequent release is denied it for so long, it will build up in his system... causing pain. Mozenrath was determined to go without release as long as he could, because he had been far too afraid and humiliated to ask his master about it, and was quickly coming to the shocking realization that Aladdin may not intend to play with him at all as a bedmate.

This wasn't good for his system at all. Mozenrath, being an educated man, knew very well he could damage himself if he did not act upon his needs. He had seen the results of what would happen to a man if his length was bound too long... in that place. But once again, his head was contradicting itself.

Mozenrath was a slave, and as such he was not allowed to cause himself release unless he had been given permission to do so. True, most slaves didn't conform to this rule, but most slaves had not been the sort of slave Mozenrath had been. Even the slightest brush of hand over his bound or unbound length that his master's Grim and Velven had not allowed him was strictly forbidden, and punished severely.

And even now, in Aladdin's palace he held himself back. When the hum of everyday life did not distract Mozenrath from his desires, he always had the most horrifyingly nasty dreams, that included anything... everything that could possibly cause him pleasure. He dreamed things so vile and contemptuous that he nearly felt sick that he actually felt aroused by them. But he was, and he could not help it. Nothing he could do would prevent those dreams, and it hurt to know that the things that had so humiliated him in the past were now things he dreamed of, and reacted quite favorably to, nightly.

There was one where he dreamed himself bound and beaten with leather straps... he heard the sounds of impact, but it reminded him of the unwanted arousal the contact caused. In another he remembered the water golems Velven had created, and the creatures made of nothing but odd appendages that were meant to be used for nothing but perverted ends. Demons have such odd pets...

Mozenrath tried to stop the thoughts, but they came just the faster when he attempted to stem their flow. Now he recalled the toys... the ones charmed to move on their own while strapped to their victims. He could still smell the warm scented oils he'd been slicked with time and again to disguise the smell of sex and blood, and even that memory made him aroused.

Then came the thoughts of feeling trapped... of another being on top of him... pinning him down and feeling so helpless that he wanted to just die so he wouldn't have to suffer so much humiliation anymore. He felt smitten being alone in his bed. What had he done so wrong that Aladdin was repelled from him? Was it that he'd been used before?

Perhaps his master simply preferred virgins...

Every night now he was waking with a need so desperate it literally hurt not to touch. Even the slightest brush of his skin against the sheets felt like bolts of electricity through him, and only furthered his ache. The dreams could usually help him to keep his desires at bay, by using the memories of fear and pain that accompanied them to offset the pleasurable effects. But every other night he hadn't dreamed of Aladdin...

There was no toys, no pain, and no being trapped or humiliated when he dreamed of Aladdin. There was nothing more than the satisfying sensation of being filled... of being ravished with intent to please. He felt like an equal when he dreamed of Aladdin. And most maddening of all, he could remember hearing his voice...

Mozenrath whimpered in frustration. His entire body was singing, thighs so tight and ready to move and be battered by thrusting that they could have been rocks had you touched them. And yet they were trembling in animal anticipation of touches... begging for Mozenrath to do something... anything to alleviate this pain. He wanted to scream. He wanted to move, and touch and writhe under another being. But most of all... he wanted his master.

It was a pain so innocent in its origins that it was akin to a child wanting to go to its parent to kiss a scraped up knee. Just as natural, but much more potent and desperate. Mozenrath shuddered on his bed, begging silently for the wind to carry the message to his master sleeping so close yet so far away... yearning for his new wonderful, kind, attractive master to come to him and make the pain go away. To come and make him all better.

It was enough to make him want to cry.

Mozenrath was sure Aladdin wouldn't want him to be in so much pain... but his trained mind kept pushing him... kept telling him that he was not to help himself... or else. His inner turmoil raged until, finally, his body won out. Mozenrath gingerly freed his hands and brought them to his front. Still, he hesitated. His hands were no more than five inches from the place he desperately wanted them to be, and he couldn't usher them into action.

A pitiful sound made it's way out of his throat, and he forced them to move, to settle over the cloth of his nightshirt. He gripped himself lightly, and almost shouted at the jolt it sent through him. Biting his lip hard enough to bruise, Mozenrath slowly, oh so slowly began to move his hands. It hurt... after so long it hurt just to bring the release. But it came quickly, after just a few moments of frantic movement. The rush was painful, sudden and unexpected. It frightened him, and he cried. But soon Mozenrath realized there was a problem.

He was still needing. Half demon that he was, he wasn't easily satisfied. He would have to do it again. He was afraid to do it now. It was a foolish thing, but it had hurt, and he didn't want it to hurt again. He also knew that it would hurt even worse if he didn't, so he cried while he tried to figure it out. He was trembling all over, miserable and alone and attempting to help himself when he knew well he shouldn't be, lest his master find out and sentence him to something worse.

Mozenrath hurt inside and out, and all over. But that was nothing to what came next. He heard a deep chuckle, a sound of amusement at his expense. And the voice sounded familiar. Jerking up from his bed and pulling the blankets up to hide the mess he had made, Mozenrath found himself gazing, absolutely horrified, into the face of the Djinn.

"Having a problem, are we?"

The tone was nothing like he'd ever heard the Djinn utter before. Gone was his annoyingly up-beat humor. That tone was nothing but malicious, and it was directed at him. Mozenrath wished he could back away, but his body was wanting, and protested the movement. He was sore everywhere, and so full of need that even the intense crippling fear he was experiencing now could usher his body to move away.

The Djinn noticed this, and laughed again. "You shouldn't have let it go this far, Mozenrath. All you did was cause yourself more pain."

His voice very small and uncertain, Mozenrath pleaded with him. "please... don't tell my master... please... he'll be so angry... and he'll..." Anticipating rash and violent reprimand, Mozenrath's mind pulled up the memory of that parasite... the one he had been subjected to in Velven's harem rooms. It brought him to tears, and he cried violently, rocking himself back and forth in his bed with his knees drawn up and his face hidden in the blankets. "... please, I'm begging you, please... please..."

"Fht. And you used to be a sorcerer." the Djinn teased.

Mozenrath cried harder. Yes... that's just what he deserved. He should be humiliated and ridiculed in his desperation and fear and pain... just like he had done to his master so long ago. It was only fair, and somewhere inside Mozenrath felt justified for going through this pain, because it made him feel better about what he had done. Not because he believed himself right for his actions, but that he was paying for it fairly.

The Djinn stared at him, as if thinking. Mozenrath didn't like the way he was looking at him, and he trembled hard, his body's terrified spasms actually dislodging the bed from its base a few inches. Finally, the being seemed to have made its decision. He sighed.

"Come here." he said.

Mozenrath panicked. "No! Please don't hurt me! I'll do anything, but please don't do that to me! NOOOOOO!" Mozenrath shrieked inhumanly when he was grabbed by the Djinn, the contact of his magical body on the feline's power deprived skin immediately fueling his desires against his will. His ache increased and the pain of no release returned full force. But all Mozenrath could think of was the pain that was sure to come when the Djinn entered him roughly, not caring if he injured his former enemy at all. "NO! STOP IT! DON'T HURT ME! MASTER! MASTER, HELP!"

***SLAP***

The shock of being struck like that forced Mozenrath to go silent, and stock still. His cheek burned, and his arms felt warped from the pressure the Djinn's hand had gripped him with. During his shouting, Mozenrath had not noticed that the Djinn had increased his size. He was now being held in a single one of his hands, and the other... had struck him so hard across the face that his lip was bleeding profusely.

"Stop your incessant whining, Mozenrath, or I'll have to be rough with you." the being ordered. "And I don't want to do that."

_'Oh yes you do!'_ Mozenrath's little voice screamed at the creature rebelliously. Mozenrath hadn't said it, he technically hadn't even thought it himself, wouldn't have even entertained the thought of daring to do so... but the Djinn sensed it all the same. He growled at the helpless feline in his clutches and sneered.

"I ought to just leave you here for Aladdin to find later." he stated fiercely. "But then he'd be upset, and I don't like to see my friends upset, Mozenrath." The Djinn lowered him back on the bed and shrank back to his normal size. "Now, is that little tantrum out of your system?"

Mozenrath curled up, shaking harder than he could remember, or at least more than had the ability to remember at the moment. Being bullied by someone bigger than you was one thing, but knowing that they could make themselves as big as they wanted at will was another. He nodded as much as he could and voiced tremulously, "Yes... I'll be good... I'll be good... just don't... please..."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Mozenrath... though by all rights I should." His voice seemed to have gone gentler. "I know what you need, and I can help you. If you wait for Aladdin he won't know what to do, and may end up injuring you accidentally. He'd never forgive himself for it. But I have the ability to do this slowly enough to keep you from damaging your body."

Mozenrath whined and flinched when the Djinn settled next to him on the bed. The hand that brushed through his hair was meant to be comforting, and one of those blue fingers touched his lip... healed the wound there caused by its owner. Mozenrath was still terrified, and the hand that lifted his trembling body from the bed elicited a squeak of protest.

"You're a frail creature, as all humans are, Mozenrath. I can treat you with such delicate, careful release that you'll feel safe in my arms for the rest of your existence. Never will you doubt Aladdin either... Isn't that what you would like, Mozenrath? To be the trusting lover he so deserves? Hasn't he done enough for you to have earned your favor?" As he spoke, the Djinn supported Mozenrath with such care, it was as if he believed the cat to be made of the finest glass. Mozenrath found himself relaxing automatically, despite his mind's insistence that he was in danger, his body didn't believe it. He felt... secure?

"Answer me, Mozenrath. Hasn't your master earned your trust?"

Lip trembling, Mozenrath nodded. "Yes... yes he has..."

"Then you will trust me?" The Djinn asked. His voice itself had become intoxicatingly sweet, indescribably a source of emotional strength. Mozenrath still trembled, but he nodded his consent. "That is very good, Mozenrath." purred the Djinn as he set him down gently upon the sheets. "I'll take care of you. There's no need to be afraid. I don't believe you are deserving of it, but tonight... I will love you."

Genie lay the former sorcerer down on the bed, wondering again why he was bothering to do this. The memories of being contained in that damn crystal of Ix, and the rush of pain while Mozenrath sucked out his very life energy from him made themselves known. He could feel the horrible sinking feeling when he'd been told Aladdin was dead by Muktar, while the only thing bothering Mozenrath about it was that he hadn't gotten the chance to do it himself.

He saw Eden, his beautiful Eden, locked in an oversized bug jar and withering away while her very essence was used as fuel for the damned sorcerer's next little project, the sorcerer's stone. Mozenrath hadn't even thanked them for saving his sorry ass that day, and then leaving him in his home unscathed but for the loss of his power instead of executing him on the spot like they should have for all that he'd done.

Aladdin had refused the idea. He'd gotten one look at Mozenrath, sitting in the corner with his knees drawn up and mourning the loss of his power, and he just couldn't do it. All the boy had the gumption to do was toss of a one-liner and leave him there to pout.

But that was something the Djinn had always admired about Aladdin. He was, to put it bluntly, disgustingly forgiving. He was the kind of human that exists just to make the point that humans should be allowed to exist, if only to breed more hearts of gold like him. He had been destined to be a vivid example of the human condition and its inherent strength even before he was conceived of that moronic and obsessive King of Thieves.

And that was why Genie hadn't killed Mozenrath, no matter how many times he had the chance to do so. Even now he seriously considered it. It would be so damned easy to just reach down and snap that fragile little body in two. Mozenrath was shivering, laying right in front of him and ready to accept whatever the Djinn decided he was to do with him.

So easy... but Aladdin would never forgive him that. Never.

Genie reached down and began to activate his spell, enchanting the mortal's body to accept the gentlest stimulation possible and come to frequent, light climaxes with the greatest possible ease. He touched Mozenrath's forehead to start, the contact enticing a small sound from the prone and helpless creature. The energy flowed from that point of contact, filling the trembling man with warmth and subtle tingles. Mozenrath shuddered.

Again, Genie briefly entertained the idea of pushing down on that head just a little bit harder, crushing it... so easy. He held back though, grateful to the mortal Aladdin for his purity, his complete and utter disregard for the darker things in life that had caused him to free the Djinn. After the unconditional friendship, the camaraderie in battle and in life... he at the very least owed it to the man to treat his pets nicely.

Genie moved his index finger downward, tracing a faint line down from the sweat slicked forehead descending to his nose then to the trembling lips. The spell worked its way with the body it flowed through beautifully, giving pleasure and sensation even at the slightest contact from the caster. Genie relished the absolute power he now had over his enemy. All he had done was draw a line down the man's face... and Mozenrath was writhing.

"You're being very quiet, Mozenrath." he teased.

The slave's eyes snapped open. He had assumed, with no small amount of relief, that he was to remain as still as he could, make no sound and allow the Djinn to do with his body as he pleased. It would have been so much easier that way... it wouldn't feel like betraying his master if he had no choice. But now the Djinn wanted him to participate? He didn't want to... but he had the feeling that he wasn't being given any other options.

"What... should I do?" he questioned as best he could.

The Djinn smiled impishly. And not in a good way either. If he couldn't hurt the man, then he could play games with him instead. "Just pretend that I'm Aladdin." he purred silkily, then to Mozenrath's horror... took on the form of his master. Mozenrath tried to move away, but only managed an uncomfortable squirming as the Djinn leaned over him.

Genie made sure Mozenrath was looking at him as he worked the sensation out of the frail body. Slowly but surely Genie relieved the wanting and helped Mozenrath out of the danger zone that surely would have damaged him. He watched with malicious glee as the boy came again and again, relishing the helpless little sounds he made with each release. Later, when Mozenrath was naught more than a flushed and trembling figure on the bed, Genie allowed his mean little thoughts to slip through.

"What would you allow me, Auset?" Aladdin's voice purred at the prone creature. Limply, the feline nervously looked up once more. "How much would you allow me to do to you before you retaliate?"

Mozenrath whimpered. "Please don't." Still struggling to get away, he turned his head so he wouldn't have to look at the frightening darker version of his kind master.

"I am your Master, remember? Answer me. What would it take to make you fight me?"

"I... Auset wouldn't... Auset can't fight what Master wishes.." he whispered in a panic.

"Are you sure you wouldn't? Not even if I hurt you... Would you turn those nasty little claws on me if I decided to..."

Mozenrath interrupted him, "Auset would allow Master to cut his throat if he wished." Stunned momentarily, the Djinn seemed to have forgotten that he was still laying over Mozenrath. He began to have trouble breathing, and pushed weakly against the blue body that was slowly crushing him. Genie backed off.

For a moment he allowed his energy to wander, finding Aladdin slumbering in a room not far away, and sensing his discomfort knowing his treasure wasn't ready for him. Yes, Aladdin very much lusted for this creature. Not only that, but he wanted to make him feel wanted... accepted and loved. He hid it so well. Aladdin loved this creature... and Genie knew it would have made no difference even if his mortal master knew of the half demon's identity.

"I will trust you with Aladdin, Mozenrath. But I swear by the source that if you do anything to so much as worry him I'll have you in the void for the rest of eternity, understand?"

It was a very real threat, and Mozenrath nodded. Genie sighed and, with a wave of his hand, had Mozenrath clean and dressed again. He tucked him in and bent down to nuzzle his neck affectionately, ignoring the flinch.

"You will not remember this tomorrow, Mozenrath. Now sleep."

Mozenrath woke slowly, hearing muffled voices in his head. He was so relaxed and warm that he didn't want to get up, but the voice became teasing and his albeit suppressed but still present pride reacted and forced him awake. He cracked one pleasantly drowsy eye open and saw a familiar shape in the doorway staring at him, and he blinked twice to confirm what he suspected.

There was Aladdin, looking at him bemusedly as he poked his head out from under the blankets, ears twitching in annoyance at having been woken so early. Aladdin, in an odd assortment of street clothes made in fine material, grinned at him. "Still in bed, Auset?" he teased.

And quite suddenly Mozenrath realized he felt so much better than he had in years. Joy melted into him and he sprung from the bed. Aladdin seemed surprised when, with an unusually happy cry of 'Master!' his Auset rushed forward and embraced his legs. He laughed though, and leaned down to be at speaking level with the feline.

"Had good dreams, did you?" he asked with a smile.

Mozenrath blushed, and was forced to turn away in embarrassment because of it. "Erm... yes, Aladdin. I had good dreams." he replied shyly. Flashes of an odd dream ran through his head... faint memories of release after release, and each of them so gentle he could scarcely tell they were happening at all save for the constant and not at all intense feeling of being slowly enraptured by a being wholly unlike any that had touched him before...

It had been a surreal dream, and one he hoped had involved his Master in some way. He was pretty sure it had.

"Excellent." Aladdin said, obviously pleased with his Auset's mood.

The Djinn came into the room, spouting some nonsense about a monkey in the fountain outside, and thinking it was time for them all to put on their swimsuits and join him. Mozenrath, having not looked at the Djinn quite yet, chuckled at the thought. Then he turned and paused. He had almost forgotten how much the Djinn scared him, but now it came back full-force. His ears drooped and he buried his face in the fabric of Aladdin's pants, determined not to look at the blue being again. Aladdin noted this and tried to make his conversation with Genie brief. When Mozenrath felt the surge of energy when the Djinn vanished he tensed, holding Aladdin's legs tighter.

"Auset..." Aladdin pulled Mozenrath from him and knelt in front of him. "What's wrong?" Mozenrath bit his lip. He didn't know why but the Djinn made him even more nervous than before now. Unable to find the words to explain it he shook his head lightly. "Well... that's fine. I came to invite you to have breakfast with me in the garden."

"Yes!" he beamed, then gasped and covered his mouth with both hands. He could NOT believe he'd just shouted like that. Aladdin wasn't angry, thank heaven, and Mozenrath flushed a little in embarrassment when he laughed. "S- sorry..."

"Well just make sure you're there in half an hour. I'm going to talk to Genie for a bit. Not about you." he quickly corrected himself when he saw the worried look from Auset. "Now, get ready okay?"

Mozenrath nodded gratefully, standing as Aladdin walked out. The little voice in his head huffed, but he just smiled.


	12. Xerxes and Recognition

Mozenrath dressed several times, eventually vying for his ocean blue clothes this time. He loved the color of the material, even though it was a completely different shade than the almost black-blue of his former attire. The last time he'd worn that color was in Velven's harem... and he'd be damned if he would ever wear it willingly again. Though he had to admit the makeup he'd been plastered with had made him look absolutely gorgeous. Smiling slightly, he opened the little case of face paints Aladdin had given to him.

_Might as well _the voice prompted him.

Shrugging, Mozenrath picked the colors that would be best with his clothes and hair, then applied very small amounts, of course in the Egyptian style. He liked it that way, as it made his pitch black eyes stand out and seem enormous in contrast with his face. Mozenrath hated to admit it, but he had a nose that was just slightly too big for his face, so he tried to hide it as much as he could. Accentuating his feminine eyes and lips was one way to do it. He left his braid loose at the top, leaving a few stray strands to frame his face with.

He puzzled over the light blue lip gloss or the faint pink. He wasn't sure exactly which one to use, so he moved on to his earrings instead. Mozenrath had three good pairs, all gifts from Aladdin. He'd long since disposed of the jewels Velven had given him, partly because they brought back bad memories, but mostly because he was growing more accustomed to lighter colors and the black-blue stones were tiresome to him now. The Sultan of Agrabah had given him one gold pair that was slightly too big for his taste (resembling the ones Jasmine wore as a princess), one silver pair that had Egyptian eyes carved into them (he really liked those, but they were too heavy for the heat on this particular day), and his favorite pair. They were made of shimmery platinum, oval-shaped and had indentations of three dragons on each one. The eyes of each dragon were colored jewels: one with blue eyes, one with yellow and one red. They twisted and interlocked with each other and the ends of each one were nowhere to be found. He knew this symbol well, prime colors and three dragons were ancient symbols of the Great Order. The natural cycle of life, death, and rebirth.

So very befitting him now. If he remembered correctly, the names of the dragons were Chaos, Fate, and Chance.

Mozenrath's taste for jewelry was another thing he was beginning to rediscover, and thought it very funny that though Aladdin was mostly a pawn for the Sultana, he was allowed to spend the royal treasury on whatever he damn well pleased. Even if it was all on gifts for his new slave. Smiling, he put on the earrings he'd chosen and admired his reflection.

_Very pretty. _

"Thank you." he answered himself with a grateful wink. The voice and him had come to an agreement as of late. The voice would not get him into trouble, and Mozenrath would practice his magic as often as possible. With permission from his master, of course... Mozenrath clasped the matching necklace around his neck and continued puzzling over the two shades of lip gloss.

Unnoticed by him, Iago flew onto his windowsill. "Hey! What's up, Auset?" he squawked loudly.

The sudden noise startled Mozenrath so much that he jumped in fright, did a rather lovely 180 rotation in the air and landed on both feet and hands, crouching low to the ground. He faced the windowsill with fangs and claws bared and eyes glowing bright blue. He didn't recognize the parrot for an instant, but he did see the color red. Instinct took over for a split-second and he HISSED. Iago stared wide-eyed at this spectacle for a moment, then burst out laughing so hard that he fell off the sill and landed on the floor, clutching his gut. Mozenrath realized what he'd done and, thoroughly embarrassed, quickly righted himself and stood with a hand up to his mouth, blushing.

"Th-that... THAT WAS PRICELESS!" Iago yelled, before collapsing into another fit of chortling that made Mozenrath blush even more.

"Forgive me... you... you startled me." he apologized in a very small voice.

"STARTLED? Scared the living hell out of you is more like it! Hey, Al should see that! I'll 'startle' you again sooner or later while Aladdin's with you and he'll see it... He'll love that!" Iago was still laughing, not noticing the change Mozenrath's face had taken.

"N-no! You can't... I mean... I can't do that! It's... not right!" Of course he couldn't HISS at his master like that! It was a threat, universally known. That would be like verbally challenging his master. Besides, Mozenrath was fairly certain that if anything startled him while he was in the presence of Aladdin he'd just latch onto the man. Hm... maybe that wasn't such a bad idea after all...

"Aw, relax. I'm just kidding. I just came up here to tell you that Al's waiting for you in-"

"The garden! I'm LATE!" he panicked, quickly brushing out his hair. He grabbed the first lip gloss container he saw and applied it hastily, just barely managing to put it on right. His Master would be so upset with him when he finally got down there...

"Whoa! Calm down! Al's not gonna care if you're just a little bit-"

"But he told me specifically not to be late! I am in so much trouble..." and with that he sprinted out of the room at an inhuman speed, surprising Iago with his urgency.

"Damn... you were right. That may be Mozenrath but it just isn't... Mozenrath!" Iago said seemingly to himself. From underneath a few of his feathers a miniature blue Djinn appeared, then reverted back to his normal size. Iago flew up and perched on his shoulder.

"So, do you think it's right to keep Al in the dark about all of it?" Genie asked, sounding really unsure of himself. The parrot shrugged.

"I know he killed off Razoul, but that guy's had it coming since Al was ten. I'm amazed it took him THIS long to get himself killed."

Genie twirled his tail between his fingers, then sighed. "I guess you're right. And his attitude HAS done a complete turn-around... maybe he'll be a good servant to Aladdin after all."

Suddenly Iago snickered, wearing the little parrot smirk that usually meant something possibly traumatizing but likely very amusing was about to happen. "Speaking of servants... you'll NEVER guess who I ran into..."

"Really? Who?"

* * *

Aladdin sat in the garden at the table he'd had moved under the trees for shade. The meal was set out, and he sipped his tea absently while he waited. Auset was ten minutes past due, and he was getting worried. What was keeping him? He couldn't have forgotten to come out and meet him.

Just when Aladdin was starting to entertain the idea that Jasmine had sent another of her goons to harass Auset, said enticing feline appeared in the archway behind Aladdin, panting from running all the way out there. Aladdin turned when he heard the deep breathing, and his eyes widened when he saw him. Auset was clutching and wringing his braid, looking extremely nervous. His eyes were cast down, and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, showing one of his elongated canines. Once again ears were drooping and his tail was limp and settled on the grassy ground.

"Auset?" Aladdin stood and went over to him. The closer he got, the more Auset's tail curled up and around his left leg. "Why were you running? If Jasmine did something..."

"No, Mas... Aladdin. I... I just lost track of the time. I didn't mean to be late, I'm sorry."

Aladdin let out a sigh of relief. "No, that's fine. You..." he stopped, then smiled. "You're wearing makeup."

Mozenrath blinked and looked up, then released his braid. His tail uncurled a bit. "Yes... do you like it?"

"Blue suits you. I'll have to see about getting you a few more colors though, it's really not so impressive if that's the only color you wear." Aladdin smiled when Mozenrath nodded sheepishly. He waved Mozenrath over to the other seat at the table, then took his own chair. "Auset, there is a company of Ambassadors from various cities in the seven deserts coming to Agrabah. They will be arriving very soon... some this very night. They're here to decide whether or not I will be allowed to receive full-blood rights as a ruler..."

Mozenrath nodded, already sure of where this was going.

"Jasmine will not be pleased if you're seen anywhere near the assembly hall by yourself, or at all." Aladdin sighed. He really hated this part. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to stay in your room, and that you not come out unless you are with me. No one else, understand?"

"Yes. I understand. But, why Ambassadors from all seven desert cities? Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but isn't it true that a city more than six weeks travel away by horse is considered too far away to commune with?" Mozenrath asked in a hushed tone. He really shouldn't be prying, but if he was being locked in his room for the next week or so he might as well know all the details first.

Aladdin looked mildly amazed, then remembered that he was talking to Mirage's son... he was bound to be well versed in the ways of most lands. It was only right that he should know these things. "That's true, but you see Auset, when you were in the Demon King's city he executed every Ambassador in it for no apparent reason."

Mozenrath paled, but held his tongue, hoping Aladdin would think his reaction due to the news and not his knowledge of the actual reason for the massacre. Luckily, Aladdin misinterpreted and just nodded. "I know. Anyway, there was a treaty meeting in progress at the time. I suppose you can imagine that every desert city in existence would be wary of the Demon King. There was an Ambassador from every city accounted for, some of them queens, crowned princes and princesses, and highly trusted advisors... the best Ambassadors their cities had to offer. When we defeated the Demon King, I was recognized as enacting justice for that slaughter... and every city in the seven deserts now feels indebted to me."

"And they are sending their new Ambassadors to council in Agrabah... to award you full-blood royal rights?"

"Yes. IF I prove that I'm worthy of them. Winning a war isn't good enough for them. I have to take some silly tests as well. And even then the decision must be unanimous." Aladdin explained.

Mozenrath mumbled something that almost sounded like a question, and he cleared his throat at Aladdin's odd look. "Does that include... the Sultana?"

Aladdin laughed shortly. "Yes, Jasmine has to agree as well. To tell you the truth, I'm not exactly sure she will allow it, but I still have to try."

"What happened, Aladdin? The two of you used to be the talk of every city there was because of your romance. Why is she so... indifferent to you now?"

Aladdin was so shocked at that he almost didn't respond. When he did it was with a dark expression and a severe tone. "I grew up. She didn't. It may seem like she did, but the only change in her was the title. I'm married to the scared little girl I met in the marketplace, and she's afraid I'll leave her if I'm allowed to do whatever I want."

Mozenrath cringed back, looking away. "I'm sorry." he murmured.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." Aladdin said dismissively. "But I do think it would do you well to be in your room by noon. No later than that. It's for your own safety, and I didn't think you'd like me appointing Genie to guard you instead."

"No... I wouldn't." he mumbled. "Thank you."

Unnoticed by both of them, a sickly brownish thing had slithered under the table, sniffing at Mozenrath's heels while they talked. Finally positive of the scent it was catching, it laughed softly, then wound it's way up and around his neck. Aladdin immediately stopped and stared in disbelief... but Mozenrath, totally unaware of doing it, instinctively reached up to pet it.

Suddenly, the image registered and Aladdin made the connection. It hit him like a boulder. Mozenrath. This was Mozenrath, not Auset. When Aladdin stood, looking furious, Mozenrath cringed and backed away. "What... what is it?"

Aladdin didn't answer. He just shook his head.

"Master..?" Mozenrath asked, frightened. Then the thing laughed just loud enough for him to hear. He yelped and wrenched the thing from his neck in surprise, not recognizing it immediately. Then he got a good look at it. "Xerxes..." he gasped.

"Mozenrath... different." Xerxes observed, hovering closer to his master's face, sniffing curiously. "Something wrong." Mozenrath looked horrified. His cover had just been blown to the deepest level of hell. No way there was even the slightest chance he wouldn't be killed now. Still, through his fear, Mozenrath suddenly realized he'd missed the creature horribly. Lip trembling, he reached out and pet the eel fondly. Xerxes grinned. "Miss me?"

Mozenrath started a smile, but Aladdin was suddenly advancing on him. Mozenrath gasped and dropped his ears flat, utter fear radiating from him. Seeing his master so anxious ushered the eel into action. "What Hero want?" Xerxes demanded. He moved in Aladdin's way to protect Mozenrath. Aladdin knocked him away so hard the eel hit the ground with a sickening sound. The hissing he directed at the Sultan went ignored, while Aladdin came ever closer to Mozenrath.

The cat backed away. Aladdin followed, stalking toward him with an obvious purpose in mind, fury etched securely into every inch of his face. "What the hell do you think you're going to achieve here?" the Sultan snarled. Mozenrath's mouth opened as if to answer, but nothing came out. His tail was curled so tightly around his thigh it seemed a part of the fabric of his trousers. Aladdin drew his sword, pointing it at the cringing form threateningly. "Well? Answer me, _AUSET._" Seeing the blade, Mozenrath was terrified beyond speaking. When his back hit the wall he just fell to his knees and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

The moment he reached the slave Aladdin tossed his sword to the side and wrenched him up by his hair, managing to rip the earring out through the sensitive flesh of his right ear in the process. Mozenrath shrieked, but quickly went quiet again when the first blow met his jaw. The sheer force of it propelled his head back into the stone, leaving a gash in his skull that poured blood down his neck. Aladdin wasn't phased by it at all. He had been deceived... humiliated, and the responsible party would pay for it dearly. While Mozenrath's vision went fuzzy, Aladdin pulled the slave's face close to his own and hissed.

"Thought you were being clever, were you? Playing games with my marriage like that? I'll bet you were in league with that monster Velven. All those Ambassadors... you had them murdered for your own gain, didn't you?"

"No!" Mozenrath begged, slurring through the blood in his mouth. "Master, please! I didn't... I'm not..."

_Not what? the voice teased him. Not a sadistic manipulative bastard of a Sorcerer anymore? You murdered that guard, didn't you? You enjoyed it too. You loved the feeling of magic pulsing inside you again. You want more of it._

the voice teased him.

Aladdin struck him again. "No!" Mozenrath cried out against the voice, and sobbed against the pain. "Master, NO!" he begged. Aladdin wasn't listening. He struck Mozenrath once, twice, three more times before he realized what he was doing. But it was too late. By that time Mozenrath had stopped sobbing... he wasn't even moving. The arms he'd had up to his neck in an effort to protect himself were limp at his sides.

He was unconscious.

"Aladdin!" Genie suddenly pulled Mozenrath's battered body up and away from the crazed man. Aladdin still had a good grip on the shirt though, so Xerxes flew up and bit Aladdin's right arm HARD. Aladdin roared and let go, grabbing at the eel instead. Xerxes shrieked and flew up to hide in Mozenrath's sleeve. Aghast, Genie held the slave gingerly, and looked over the wounds with a grimace. Aladdin had not been lenient at all. He started to say something in admonishment, but the look on his friend's face stopped the words where they were. There would be no talking to him right now.

"Take that thing to it's room." He growled, voice low and deadly. "And make sure it stays there. I'll deal with it later." And with that he stormed off into the palace, presumably to get ready for his trials and the arrival of Agrabah's 'guests'.

From inside Mozenrath's now bloodstained sleeve, a raspy voice asked tentatively, "Djinn?"

Genie sighed. "Yeah, slug-man?"

"Don't hurt Mozenrath." Xerxes begged. "Mozenrath different. Xerxes smell it. Mozenrath different."

Genie smiled sadly. "I won't, slug-man. I know."

* * *

Three floors up, Jasmine stepped back from the window she'd been watching from, hoping to catch a glimpse of Aladdin's behavior toward his slave. She had been planning to use the fury brought on by watching her beloved flirt with another to her advantage.

Now she wished she hadn't. She hadn't seen Xerxes, or understood anything Aladdin had said to the slave from her height, but she'd clearly witnessed the violence and blood. Smart as she was, she recognized misplaced aggression when she saw it, especially since she had been the cause of it many times before. In her head she saw the same scene playing out... only with her and Aladdin. Her entire body jerked every time she saw herself strike him, knowing she'd done it on purpose, but not fully believing it had occurred.

Epiphany set in. She was abusive... and it was her fault that Aladdin was now too. The marks on his chest and back, the rough sex that she knew Aladdin hated but forced on him anyway, the rules she'd put in place to belittle and humiliate him... all of it had finally caught up with her all at once, as if the whole time she'd been watching from a distance and not been a part of it herself. But it HAD been her... it had always been her. She'd even tried to have that innocent creature killed because of her jealousy. And now she may have made a murderer of her husband... the man she loved.

Unseen by Aladdin, Genie or Iago, Jasmine wailed and fainted.

* * *

Aladdin yelled, loud and furious. The servants that had been cleaning his chambers had fled the moment he'd arrived. He was totally mad, rage clouding over the sensibilities his heart had fought so very hard to maintain no matter what the odds. But this was too much.

Mozenrath. He'd been sheltering MOZENRATH! He'd pampered Mozenrath... he'd comforted Mozenrath. He'd even fought a war and killed many men, only to end up carrying MOZENRATH back to his home in loving arms! Chaos must have been laughing at him. What other man was infinitely stupid enough to willingly bring his worst enemy into his home, putting his friends and wife in danger, just because he had a natural inclination to protect anyone with a pretty face?

Animal growls were emanating from him now, and his behavior only enhanced it. He broke a mirror, tossing it into a wall with such force that the pieces looked like a shower of glitter. Tapestries were shredded, pillows opened and the feathery contents spilled all over until the 'snow' left behind covered the entire floor. Chair legs were snapped and used as weapons against other helpless furniture items. Jewelry clamored against the walls and floor as they were scattered about carelessly. Then finally, he stopped. Holding Jasmine's night dress in his hands, his heart finally caught up with his head and roughly demanded to know what the hell it had been up to while it was away. He had... He did...

Guilt hit him like a lead boulder.

Aladdin's knees gave out. Images flashed in his head. A creature that had trusted him just moments before was shrieking, begging for him to stop hurting it. His fists throbbed, bleeding and sore from the repeated impacts of knuckles on flesh. Something had been enveloped by the torn skin in his palm... he turned his trembling hand over and saw... an earring. A pretty platinum earring adorned with dragons was a quarter way imbedded in his palm. He pulled it out and stared.

The dragons were angry with him. Their jeweled eyes flashed at him from underneath a sickly mix of thick red. Mozenrath. Mozenrath who had disappeared without a trace. Mozenrath who's gauntlet he'd destroyed. Mozenrath who had no doubt been in the Demon King's harem longer than any other creature had managed without dying or going completely mad. Mozenrath... who Aladdin now knew was the son of Mirage. What must it have been like to have that evil thing raise him? What had happened to him in the harem to make such a violent animal a docile, sweet and obedient slave? How much torture had he gone through in his lifetime?

Aladdin remembered that tiny little tower room, so small it must have been just barely big enough for Mozenrath as a child let alone a man. So damaged his heart must have been even then, to have locked himself into that miniscule space every night, just to feel the slightest bit secure. How he must have felt when apprenticing under Disdain. What had the old lecher done to the boy in that tower?

What had HE done...?

What had he done to his Auset? Auset... The sweet thing that had napped with his head on his master's lap in the carriage. Auset that had saved his life from Razoul, the man who'd gone out of his way to torture Aladdin since his mother had died. Auset that was concerned for the marks the Sultana left on her husband. Auset that clung to Aladdin as if his very life depended on it.

Aladdin dropped the silk, then followed it to the floor.

"Allah... what have I done...?"


	13. Peace with a Djinn

This chapter sucks and it's kind of short; therefore I am posting two today. That's my excuse, but it's really because FLONNIE B likes it so much. ^_^

* * *

Genie tended the cat carefully as he lay still on the divan: cleansing the porcelain skin of blood, gently balming every sore and bruise, stitching torn flesh and tending to the gash on the back of his head. Mozenrath made no reactions to this, though he must have been in severe pain. Genie would have preferred some screaming and thrashing from Mozenrath to this. At least then he would have known that he was conscious. But no, Mozenrath hadn't said anything, moved or so much as whimpered from discomfort since he'd woken two hours ago. Not even the wine that had been used to clean his wounds had elicited the slightest sound.

This worried the Djinn greatly. Over the little time he'd been here, Mozenrath had proven himself beyond any doubt to be changed completely. He was patient, polite and instantly obedient whenever it was in his power to do so. He feared and respected his master, and there was even the possibility that he'd loved him… until he'd been assaulted. Now even threats from a Djinn, a creature Mozenrath was absolutely terrified of, would cause him to even flinch back.

Mozenrath had not gone mad, nor had he passed into a melancholy. He was just THINKING. Something was going through that pretty little head that Genie couldn't figure out, something that was infinitely important to the slave. Perhaps something to do with his master, Aladdin. Genie wasn't particularly concerned that Mozenrath had decided to take revenge for his near-fatal beating from the man: far from it. What concerned the Djinn was the fact that Mozenrath may be feeling that he deserved it. That everything Aladdin had said to him was true, that somehow he had caused the marital feud, endangered the Sultana and influenced the slaughter of hundreds of helpless Ambassadors on purpose.

Humans, particularly depressed ones, tend to kill themselves when they feel it is necessary to escape torture: and though Mozenrath was half demon he was also half human. Genie wondered if, given the choice, would Mozenrath choose to die now rather than have to face his violent master again? The thought was sickening, yet entirely possible and above all most likely exactly what was going through the distraught creature's mind at the moment.

Genie sighed, and prodded the wound he was tending a bit harder than he needed, to see if anything would happen. Nothing did, and he prodded harder, getting angry now. "React, damn you." He whispered to him. "Aladdin will cool down, and then we can figure this out, alright? Think Mozenrath, if I had wanted any of this to happen, wouldn't I have told him sooner?"

Mozenrath did not reply, he didn't even move. Really, he didn't even seem living while laying so still, nude and face-down like a corpse brought home for cleaning before a burial. He even resembled a corpse at the moment, parts of his white skin stained pink from blood, wounds all over his upper body as if he'd been on the wrong end of an attack from horseback.

Genie shuddered, trying to get the image out of his head. He touched Mozenrath's back just to feel the warmth and assure himself that the fragile mortal creature did indeed live still.

"Mozenrath! Answer me!" Still nothing. Well, then – if he wanted to be difficult, so be it. Genie ground his teeth in frustration and took the needle he was stitching with, then jabbed it into Mozenrath's right hand so hard it imbedded an inch into the pillow beneath it.

Mozenrath shrieked. Loud.

Genie thought that may have been a soft spot on the ex-sorcerer. Patiently he waited for the screams to stop, holding the struggling slave down and silently refusing to remove the needle. It took a long while, but finally the wails ceased and Mozenrath simply lay limp on the divan under the Djinn, trembling and crying so lightly it could barely be seen. Genie waited just a few more moments, then removed the needle and continued stitching the delicate cat's ear back together where the earring had been ripped out through the skin. Such a shame really, Mozenrath had beautiful ears. Now this one would have a nasty scar on it, but at least there wouldn't be any large holes.

"You should answer when you are spoken to." He stated simply. Mozenrath nodded into the pillows, left hand clutching his right protectively. "I didn't want to hurt you, but you left me no other choice, Mozenrath. Why won't you react? Why do you not talk to me?"

Mozenrath's whispers were barely heard, but they shocked the Djinn none the less.

"I prefer to speak only to my Master, as he has given me instructions not to address others besides himself without his permission. It is neither wise nor polite for a slave to speak to those above them, even when asked a direct question, unless the one asking is that slave's owner. And I am used to the pain. It doesn't bother me so much as it does others. No doubt you remember the condition of my body after my rescue from Velven's palace." The tone was astoundingly calm and collected, especially considering everything that had happened to him recently.

"You still think of Aladdin as your master?" Genie asked, trying to figure him out. There were some things about Mozenrath that he was just beginning to realize: his loyalties for example. Before he had loyalties only to himself, but now… he seemed to obey to the point of insolence. If his Master told him to defend himself then put a knife to his throat, Mozenrath would just stand there and let whatever his Master wished happen. Even if it meant his life.

"What I think is irrelevant. Master Aladdin thinks for me, I am to do as I am told. And to that point, I am supposed to be in my room, not yours. Please take me there. I don't want to be in any more trouble than I am already."

Stunned stupid, Genie just stood there for a while and stared. "Aren't you afraid?"

"Yes. I have been afraid for years, and it has rarely affected me as much as it has these recent few. But I've been thinking…"

"Obviously. I had to stab you to bring you out of it." Genie interrupted, but Mozenrath continued unheeded.

"…that it isn't my responsibility to be afraid anymore. I shouldn't have to. There isn't any point to it now that I have no affect on my own destiny… others control me completely. Be it my current Master, a future Master or a trader… I am a slave. That is all I am, and as one it is not fair to myself to go through unnecessary stress over things I cannot change any longer. I was frozen from fright whenever I came across you, Djinn, before. But now I am not. There is no reason, even if you kill me now, because I won't be able to stop you even if I am afraid."

Fear, real fear grasped Genie's heart. And what of ending your own life, Mozenrath? Would you not fear that?" He just had to know… Aladdin would never forgive himself if he drove his Auset to suicide.

Mozenrath seemed to think very hard for a while, then closed his dead eyes and gave a haunted smile. "I know what you are afraid of, Djinn. That I'll slit my throat and my Master will mourn me to his own death, correct? To put it quite simply, I do not have the right. I belong to someone else, not to myself. Were I to commit suicide, I would be stealing. Does that answer your question?"

"You are impossible." Genie smirked. At the very least a bit of Mozenrath's wry sense of humor had returned. Making reference to his Master's death is not something he would have dared before.

"And insolent. And not where I'm supposed to be. I hate to beg, but I really need to be in my own room when Aladdin comes for me. At least then I'll have some bearing. That blow to the head has hurt me a bit more than seen… I'm dizzy laying down."

"… That isn't good at all. Can you tell where the center of the feeling is?"

"No. It'll heal quickly, just like everything else. But I don't think I can stand on my own." Mozenrath bit his bruised lip for a second then sighed. "Would you mind… carrying me?"

Genie smiled, genuinely amused that Mozenrath had actually asked him that consciously and of his own free will. "Of course. Brace yourself, this is going to hurt."

"I know." Mozenrath closed his eyes and obeyed, bracing himself for the rush of pain that was sure to come from the movement and pressure of being handled so soon after his ordeal. And the Djinn was right, it did.

* * *

Aladdin looked at the sleeping form of Mozenrath on the little bed of pillows in the corner of the tiny rooms he'd been given to stay in. The healing abilities of his slave were astonishing: it looked to him that the horrible encounter had happened over two days ago, yet it had been mere hours. Not even half a day.

Genie had said Mozenrath was better now, emotionally, than he had been before. Honestly the blue Djinn had commented sheepishly that it may have been a good thing in the long run that Aladdin had lost his recently short temper with the feline and beaten him so badly… if only because it seemed to have knocked some sense into him. Still, the guilt hurt Aladdin more than any injury he'd ever received in battle. Not even during the war he'd declared on the Demon King's city had he felt such pain.

Of course, it was a miracle that he'd won that war at all, even with the number of casualties. Truth be told Aladdin hadn't been in any big battles in months before that attack. Once the news of the Sultan's tumors had reached his ears, Aladdin had instantly began a long and torturous crusade to eliminate or subjugate his enemies before the old man died and it would become his responsibility to not only protect the city, but clean up after his fights as well. Mozenrath had disappeared by that time, otherwise the sorcerer would have been the very first target. When Aladdin went to face off with the man, all he found was decaying and inanimate Mamluk remains, ruins of an unused Citadel… and a lonely leather gaultlet.

The crusade had been a success: All of his former enemies were either dead, peacefully subjugated, had signed treaties with Agrabah.. or lying sleeping and helpless before him. He would find new enemies to be sure, but none so exciting and… odd as the enemies of his reckless youth. Abis Mal and Mechanichles would be dearly missed… as they had been his personal favorites for stirring up the royals once in a while with their antics and quirky plans. But it couldn't be risked. Ridiculous or not, they could be serious dangers to his city and future heirs, and had to be dealt with accordingly. Aladdin had lost his boyish innocence the day he faced them… at the right end of a sword.

Executing your first nemesis is an important step in becoming a good ruler… or so he'd been told.

But Mozenrath… that had been the real challenge. The only one he'd really thirsted for after his first taste of blood. But that opportunity had been snatched away from him by a group of wandering slave traders that just happened to get lucky and run into a sorcerer at his lowest moment. No power, exhausted from a fight, and completely and utterly alone.

What Aladdin would have given to see the look on the man's face when thrown into the slaver's carriage with a bunch of dirty street rats. Disgusted, furious, and desperate perhaps? Or maybe just furious. Yes, that sounded right. Mozenrath had always been furious for one reason or another, and sometimes Aladdin had honestly wondered when the vicious cycle had begun in the sorcerer's life. At what point the strain had caused a child to become a raving, ranting, vicious and merciless ruler. There was no way to tell… unless he asked him.

There were a great many things Aladdin would like to ask him at this point.

He leaned down and brushed the midnight curls back out of his face, avoiding the wounds that he'd put there himself not long ago in the same day. He smiled a bit and shrugged.

"Later. We'll talk later. Rest now, Auset. I'll be here to beg forgiveness when you wake up." Aladdin bent down and kissed him lightly, not caring what Jasmine would think. It was legally no business of hers what he did with his slaves, and if she wanted to fight about it… he was no longer afraid to answer her rage strike for strike. In two days the meeting with the Ambassadors to decide his rights would begin, and no matter the outcome of it he would not back down for anything.

This was his city. He was born here, his mother had died here, he had fought here countless times and fallen in love here. The people would follow him to hell itself if he asked them to. Not a soul in the world existing was going to tell him he had no right to Agrabah himself, or anything in it.

Pulling back the blanket, Aladdin slid into the soft cushions next to Mozenrath and embraced him as gently as he could. The other man curled into him, mumbling softly in Egyptian. Aladdin smiled and nuzzled the curls, then lay his head down and closed his eyes.

"Don't be too afraid when you wake, Mozenrath. We have much to discuss."


	14. Love and Betrayal

Second chapter, exclusively for FLONNIE B.

Yes, I have read a bit of Magi. It's interesting you mentioned it. I found it while I was on Maternity Leave not long ago while I was reading Kamisama Kiss. I wrote this story WAY before that, though. But I do like that Manga. Eventually I hope I'll have time to read it some more.

* * *

Aladdin woke with the sun, and amazedly found himself alone in the pillows. Mozenrath was not where he should have been, beside him and wrapped up in his arms. For a brief moment he felt a flash of anger for his slave's disobedience, but it passed quickly when he saw a small patch of red on the blanket in his hand. One of the wounds must have reopened sometime during the night.

"Auset?" he asked gently, hoping that he would be close by. Injured or not, Mozenrath had been forbidden to leave his room. It would not do him well to disobey his former nemesis now. Still half-asleep, Aladdin rose from the bed and looked it over for any more patches of blood. He found two more, small when compared to the first. Hopefully nothing was too serious. Aladdin bit his lip, praying that the blood was not of his own doing. It may not have been a good idea to get into bed with the injured man, especially since he had a tendency to clutch onto things while he slept. Jasmine had even complained once, saying that he gripped her too hard and she'd had to pry his fingers off her arm by force.

"Auset?" he asked again. Apparently, Mozenrath was nowhere nearby. The bed was no longer warm where he'd been laying, so he must have been up for a while now. Aladdin sighed, and hoped again that Mozenrath had not left the rooms. He would hate to punish him so soon after what had happened yesterday. Eventually his brain wrapped around the fact that Mozenrath was indeed likely to be cross with him after their last meeting, and may have fled him completely. And after everything that had occurred he might not even get a chance to apologize. That thought struck a chord that had him sitting up in a near panic.

"Mozenrath!" he called for the man in a commanding tone. "Mozenrath, come here now! You'd better not have left this room, do you hear?" Guilty or not, Aladdin was not about to let the man escape. He was still not entirely convinced Mozenrath was completely changed, though he was positive he hadn't been up to anything at all in the past two years at least. "Mozenrath!"

A soft rustle of fabric from his right prompted Aladdin to turn. There he was… sitting in the window with his knees drawn up to his chest. His tail swung lazily against the wall and his ears were straight up, twitching intently to follow every sound. "Yes, Master." Mozenrath whispered in a subdued tone. "I am here. I did not leave the room once I entered, as you instructed me."

"Why didn't you answer me the first time I called you?" Aladdin asked harshly. He wasn't really angry at Mozenrath, just frustrated.

"I did, you simply spoke over me and didn't hear it." Not quite trusting Aladdin's irritated expression, Mozenrath hopped off of the windowsill and came only as close as he thought would justify the command while still staying out of striking range. "I humbly beg your forgiveness for leaving you while you slept, but you see I felt…" he paused, turning a bit pink, "I felt a bit exposed."

Of course, Aladdin thought. Mozenrath was not dressed when he'd laid down to sleep with him. After coming out of the Demon's harem the situation must have seemed very dangerous to him… enough to risk punishment by leaving to dress. Perhaps Mozenrath suspected Aladdin wanted something from him that he was not willing to give, at least not quite yet.

"No, it's alright." Aladdin sighed, trying to avoid looking at anything but Mozenrath's face. Even if Aladdin had intended to see Mozenrath naked, it wouldn't have made much difference if he hadn't gotten up to dress. The night shirt Mozenrath had changed into went only to his thighs, and he was standing between the window and Aladdin. The dawn's light went right through the rich material, casting shadows that left little to the imagination. Thank goodness Mozenrath seemed to be unaware of this fact, or he might have tried to conceal it. Aladdin made a mental note to get him some nightclothes that were a bit more concealing. No doubt he was uncomfortable in the skimpy things he'd had so far.

Aladdin Really needed to pay less attention to his slave's beauty and more to his feelings. He patted the pillows next to him and gestured for Mozenrath to come closer. "Come, sit here with me. Don't be afraid, I'm not angry with you anymore. I won't strike you, I swear."

Temporarily, the order went unheeded.

"What will you do with me then?" Mozenrath asked meekly, turning his eyes to the floor. He didn't seem very afraid, merely considerably wary. It was obvious he had overestimated the meaning of Aladdin's presence upon his waking. What a shock it must have been for him to wake with Aladdin holding him close, nothing between them but Aladdin's own clothes. And of course Aladdin's grip on him had been tight, possibly to keep him from escaping. The pain it would have caused him must have been frightening enough on it's own without the knowledge of his vulnerable state. Aladdin smiled and shook his head.

"You will see." The mysterious tone was meant to be playful, but had the opposite of the intended effect on the slave. Aladdin watched, frowning, as Mozenrath slowly came forward and settled on the bed close to him, body trembling enough to show anticipation of harm. In an effort to calm him, Aladdin reached out a hand to stroke the curly locks, and was surprised when Mozenrath did not draw back as he usually did. Aladdin smiled. "Gotten braver, have you?"

Mozenrath shook his head gently. "I have never in my life been brave. Least of all now."

Aladdin mused on that a moment, then reached out and tipped Mozenrath's chin so that he would face him. Still, the other man's eyes were carefully averted. Aladdin had to admit, for someone that used to be so angry and controlling, he had been trained incredibly well. "Look at me. Never be afraid to look at me." Aladdin whispered to him. Recognizing the order for what it was, Mozenrath didn't hesitate in obeying. "Auset… We have a lot to talk about, you and I. First, know that you are not going to be held responsible for what a man named Mozenrath once did, because you are not him. I will not do harm to an innocent man. It's very important that you understand that, Auset. I don't want you to flinch when his name is said, nor do I wish to see you hang your head when he is discussed in the Palace. You have nothing to do with him. Not now or ever."

Mozenrath's lip trembled and he shook his head. "I deserve it… all of it. It's my own fault that all of this happened to me, and I know it could have been worse than it was. If you hadn't defeated Velven when you did…" Mozenrath stopped, his voice refusing to work momentarily. Aladdin gave him time to breathe, to catch himself and say what he had to. Mozenrath took a few deep breaths and swallowed hard. "But you shouldn't be so kind to me. I deserve to be beaten. I deserve the humiliation of the Harem. I ought to be made to pay for what I did to everyone I've ever met, with my own suffering. Surely you see that?"

The tone was pleading, but Aladdin was having none of it. "You are not Mozenrath."

"But I WAS! I WAS that horrible man once in my life!"

"But you aren't anymore. You say you are my willing slave, right?" Mozenrath nodded, looking desperately at Aladdin. "Then I forbid you to associate yourself with the name Mozenrath ever again. You will not feel remorse for anything you hear he has done in the past. You will never practice sorcery or any other kind of magick, unless it is me who orders you to do so. Is that perfectly clear to you, my Auset? You belong to me, and nothing else should effect what you do, including your past."

Mozenrath stared, wide eyed and amazed at what had just happened. He was free. It was the ultimate irony, that he could never truly be free to be happy and enjoy life unless he was under someone else's power completely and not allowed to take responsibility for his past. He was no longer Mozenrath, he was Auset. Just Auset.

A great rush of relief went through his very soul. Auset collapsed from the bed and onto the tiled floor, where he gratefully lay his head in his Master's lap and wept happy tears for the first time in his life. This went on for near to half an hour before Auset wore himself out. He was no longer crying, but simply leaning against Aladdin's legs and absently fingering the rapidly healing wounds on his neck. One of them caught his attention, and he played with the stitches lightly for a brief moment before…

"Master!"

Auset had called out in such a way that Aladdin had literally jumped from surprise. "What is it? What's wrong?" The Sultan asked, still petting through Auset's hair.

"Please allow me one thing! I must know what's happened to Xerxes! Your Djinn said nothing of him when I woke, and I haven't seen him since the garden! Please, tell me he's safe!" Auset was begging, not asking. He wanted to keep his little friend, felt that he owed the eel a great debt for staying with him for so long, for coming back after two long and torturous years of waiting just to see if his master was alright. Feeling his fingers play along his neck had reminded him of Xerxes curling around his neck before, affectionately rubbing the top of his head on the base of his chin. Aladdin's expression was grave, and Auset scrambled away from him in utter shock. "You didn't! Please tell me you didn't!"

"I'm sorry. He could not be seen. Jasmine would have known and had you killed. There was nothing I could do for it but get rid of him." Suddenly Aladdin was up, advancing on Auset. He knew that look well, and quickly clamped a hand over his slave's mouth to keep the scream from carrying. "You will NOT scream! Do you hear me, Auset? STOP it right NOW!"

But Auset wouldn't. Had Aladdin not had his mouth covered that scream would have woken the dead. As it was his hand felt as if it were vibrating from the sheer power of it. Auset's cries, though muffled, were heartbreaking. In his mind he could see the fear in Xerxes eyes, knowing what was to come. It was unforgivable, what he had allowed to happen to his little friend. He would never forgive himself.

Aladdin, while upset that Auset's short moment of happiness was over, simply couldn't understand why he was being so frantic about it. He had never shown anything but malice toward the eel that he had seen, and even if he had it hadn't been much. There was nothing to do for it now but wait for the fit to pass. Eventually it did, at least to the point where Aladdin could let go and let what cries remained reverberate through the chamber without worry of the guards in the next hall hearing.

"Stop, Auset. I order you to stop that ridiculous noise this instant."

Auset obeyed the only way he could, by laying his face into a pillow to muffle the sound. He couldn't stop crying, it was just too much of a shock to him. Aladdin would never be able to fully comprehend what he had done in killing the little familiar. He had destroyed the only memory of any sort of kindness from Mozenrath's days living with Distain. The only creature that showed it had any semblance of sympathy for his plight.

Auset had to ignore the hands petting his back, trying to calm him. If he had allowed himself to acknowledge that it was Aladdin's touch he would have pulled away. At the moment, he could not afford openly showing that much scorn for his Master. While what was left of the fit continued, Aladdin called for Genie and had him come to the room.

When the Djinn saw the state of Auset, he gave Aladdin a knowing look.

"He'll be alright with a little time." Aladdin said gently. "I need you to keep him quiet. Tell him where the body was buried, and promise you'll take flowers there, but he is not to leave these rooms. I want him alive and safe for now. I'll worry about the rest later, when there's time."

Genie nodded sharply, a bit stiff in posture as well. Aladdin looked at him squarely.

"You know there was no other way."

"Perhaps." The Djinn supplied rather dryly. "But you could have let him say his farewell."

That struck Aladdin with the force of a slap to the face. He honestly hadn't thought of that, but there was nothing for it now. "Give him this when he's stopped his fit." Aladdin said, and handed the Djinn a beautiful little earring before he walked out the door.


	15. Sightings

Obviously the key to that 'quote at the beginning of each chapter' thing is IF I REMEMBER. T.T;;

Ah, screw it. Here's something from DragonBall Z Abridged.

"Then these two guys double-teamed me. One of them took it really hard in the back, but the other didn't seem that interested, so he went and brought this really horny guy..." ~Goku, referencing the Ginyu Force.

* * *

"Auset…"

Genie started for the third time, hovering over the motionless form of his temporary charge. So far the slave had refused to answer him, vying instead to concentrate solely on the gathering of newly appointed Ambassadors in the courtyard below. They were congregated in a tightly packed circle to keep the chill of the desert's night air from freezing them solid.

"Hn?" Mozenrath grunted again, having not really noticed that he was being spoken to at all. He was waiting anxiously for the meeting to commence, and to hear of the fate of his Master. He wouldn't have let anyone know it for the life of him, but he was silently praying to every deity that he knew of (except for the darker ones, of course) that Aladdin would be granted the legal rights that he so obviously deserved. It was severely unlikely that the verdict would actually be given for days now, but Mozenrath knew for a fact that every little sentence his Master uttered or DIDN'T utter would influence the judgment.

By the Gods, he rued being locked in his rooms.

"It won't go any faster if you stand there staring." Genie pressed, hoping he would actually get a multi-syllable answer this time. Once again, Mozenrath was being irritatingly unresponsive. And he didn't even have a needle to poke him with this time.

"I know… but I want to know how it ends." Mozenrath's ears were pricked all the way up, facing this way and that as he strained to listen to the conversations taking place below him. He was leaning so far over the side of the balcony that Genie hovered closer in case he needed to grab the man to keep him from falling over. Not that he didn't trust the cat's reflexes or balance, he just didn't want to get blamed if Mozenrath accidentally hurt himself.

"You shouldn't worry so much. It's bad for you." The comment caused Mozenrath to look backwards at him adorably, at an angle that no human body would ever be able to pull off while balancing on his torso over the edge of a balcony. Then again, he wasn't exactly human, was he?

"Says the mothering Djinn." Mozenrath chirped, wearing his smirk that looked very much like the cat-demoness' signature expression. It was one of the things the former sorcerer had picked up seemingly by accident since he'd begun practicing with his claws, and it made anything in his vicinity when he decided to use it want to give an annoyed twitch.

Genie grinned indulgently at the weary cat and shook his head in defeat. Taking in the red and sore eyes, forced posture and unsteady legs, he was amazed the poor creature hadn't just collapsed yet. "Alright, wear yourself out. But when Aladdin gets back to you do you really want to show him tired eyes?"

That made the slender man frown, and he slid down off the rim of the balcony and settled his feet back on the floor, which made the Genie much more comfortable overall. He gave the crowd of little old men a withering look and shook his head. He was obviously VERY upset that he couldn't do anything to help his Master through this trial. It was obvious… since his five hour long mourning fit over the loss of Xerxes, he hadn't slept at all for his agonizing over the trial. That had been two days ago, and poor Mozenrath was positively EXAUSTED.

"What will happen if Master Aladdin is denied…?" he asked nervously. "Will the Sultana leave him? Will he be able to keep me?" Perhaps it was selfish of him to be thinking that way, but Aladdin would actually need his full Sultan status to be able to keep any slaves against his wife's wishes. Mozenrath didn't want to leave Aladdin, not now not ever. After all, how often is a slave lucky enough to come across a Master that won't beat them for the slightest slip of the tongue?

Genie chuckled and swept the tired creature off his feet. Taken off guard, Mozenrath gasped and locked his hands onto the Genie with a iron grip, only just managing to remember how to retract his claws first. He didn't argue when he was put in his bed and wrapped in the blankets, but he'd be damned if he was actually going to sleep without being ordered to. Or at least without some kind of spell to help him along…

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who said they were not going to care anymore, don't you?" was the flippant response. Mozenrath blushed a bit at the reference to his earlier speech.

_"… it isn't my responsibility to be afraid anymore. I shouldn't have to. There isn't any point to it now that I have no affect on my own destiny… others control me completely. Be it my current Master, a future Master or a trader… I am a slave. That is all I am, and as one it is not fair to myself to go through unnecessary stress over things I cannot change any longer."_

Genie watched the change in color with amusement, then smiled. "Did you tell any of that to Aladdin?" he asked. "I don't think he would have accepted it so easily as I did."

"No." Mozenrath shook his head. "He ordered me to forget who I was before and just be… Auset." The little smile crept up on him without his noticing, and it looked like a ray of sunlight in an abyss. "I have no choice but to obey, do I?"

"Not really." Genie laughed again. He knew what that order meant to the slave: freedom. Not freedom in the sense that most people think of, oh no. It was freedom as defined by a man with an unspeakable past. The freedom to no longer have to be a part of it and live in peace. "What else did he tell you?"

That little smile faded away while Mozenrath thought. Remembering orders was a skill, not a talent. It had to be learned. Unfortunately, he hadn't had a whole lot of practice in it since he'd come to Agrabah, at least not as much as he'd had before. When your Master comes up with new rules on an hourly basis, one must learn to keep on their toes, so to speak. Aladdin wasn't one for mind games with his slaves, and Mozenrath was infinitely grateful for that.

"I… I am not to answer to that name…" he started, refusing to actually say it. He was beginning to worry that he wouldn't remember. After all, he had been through quite a lot and might have been shocked out of his senses for too long to keep at his short-term memory. "I may not react to it being mentioned around me… I won't allow my past to affect me, and-"

He stopped dead.

"What is it?" Genie asked, suddenly concerned. The look that passed Mozenrath's face was one of pure panic, then it slowly dissolved into something worse: something between disappointment and anguish.

"I may never use magic again." He whispered, voice breaking. He had forgotten up until now. Really he had, and it tore him inside just having to say it out loud.

Genie grimaced. Not good. Taking the free reign of magic away from a being, like a Djinn or a demon/half-demon, could result in a constant sense of emptiness. It wasn't that they no longer possessed it, it was that being unable to use it was like giving a lion fresh meat but not allowing it to eat it. He could see it, smell it, touch it and imagine it… but he couldn't actually taste it.

That was torture.

"You went for a long time without it, didn't you?" Genie offered, trying to sound comforting. "Maybe it won't be so bad."

"You know that I could bear it because I was being touched and infused with it constantly through my Master at the time. My own power was shadowed by his, and my senses clouded with it. I didn't even recognize that I still possessed my own magic until I had to use it. Now that I know, it's like trying to hold back breath. I release it small amounts here and there when Master isn't looking because he hadn't told me I wasn't allowed to yet. I changed the color of some things in my room, used it to make my wine sweeter, levitated here and there in secret… Little things like that. But now I can't."

Mozenrath's tone of voice was positively wretched. He was imagining living forever without the use of his powers. That was a severely depressing thought.

Genie petted the creature the same way Aladdin was prone to doing, hoping it would relieve some of the frustration. Mozenrath's head angled into the touch, and he sighed lightly. "Just wait." Genie said. "Aladdin will ask me about it eventually, and I'll suggest he let you use it. If only with me there to watch you. He'll be alright with that much…"

"Do you really think so?" Mozenrath sulked. He was unsure of how that might turn out.

"I promise. He'll believe me when I say that you need to use it. Perhaps you can use it to save his life again in the future. But until then…" Genie purred, leaning in close. He released small amounts of his own energy into Mozenrath's skin from his fingertips. The cat went rigid instantly in surprise, then relaxed a bit as his body decided not to fight it. "I can keep you comfortable."

He finished with a decidedly wicked grin. The Djinn well remembered the night he'd spent playing with the frail body, discovering little sensitive areas and limits of feeling everywhere. It wasn't something he planned on doing again unless he was permitted by Aladdin, but it was definitely something he would always remember. Mozenrath was an extremely attractive toy – delicate yet strong, and he made the prettiest sounds in pleasure. The kind of sounds you would only expect a nymph to make.

But maybe he was the only creature within a hundred miles that knew what a nymph sounded like mid-coitus.

Perhaps in a few months, when this fickle human business was settled, he'd ask Aladdin if he could borrow the tempting feline.

The hands withdrew, leaving Mozenrath feeling strange tingles of excitement all over him. His hair was standing on end, making his tail bush out to three times it's diameter. Genie saw this and snickered, then turned and watched the procession of Ambassadors into the conference hall on the first floor.

"Go to sleep." He ordered. "I'll wake you if anything happens."

"Promise me, Djinn?" he asked drowsily. "I have to know…"

"I promise. Now sleep."

Mozenrath closed his eyes. Just as he did, he could have sworn he caught the vision of a man's shadow hovering around on the balcony, watching him speak with the Djinn. He passed it off as an illusion. Anything with enough power to levitate like that would have been sensed either by him or the Djinn, and anyways… not many men had fluorescent purple hair.


	16. Ambassador to Everywhere

Okay, this chapter is a bit weird. I may have been drunk. Rest assured I wasn't pregnant at the time, though.

* * *

There are several things in existence that could only be explained by a blue winged Egyptian looking cat named Chaos, but ironically even he could never actually understand them. Oh, he says he does, but it's only prudent to never believe anything the source of all Chaos in the universe were to tell you, no matter what the circumstances. One of these things is the existence of a similar winged cat.

Near the beginning of the universe there happened to be only one being capable of reproducing, and ironically that creature was the only male in existence at the time. And so, being bored to the point of self humiliation, Chaos fertilized himself and became pregnant. After several centuries of expecting a son, Chaos bore a daughter and named her Chance.

It just so happened that at the moment of her birth Chance unknowingly allowed the ultimate in uniquely odd coincidences to occur. When a creature that powerful is born it causes a shock wave of energy to reverberate throughout the universe in it's entirety. The shock wave caused by the birth of Chance is the very one that sent an entirely insignificant cloud of dust millions of light years in size to start spinning. Eventually, this spin created a solar system in which a tiny blue and green planet formed in the third spot from the center where a wholly uninteresting yellow star burned it's short life away. This planet, located in the most remote and seemingly useless location in the whole of existence, quite unexpectedly proved itself to be the most amusing place at any point in the universe's history for powerful beings to frequent. This is simply because of the interesting little creatures that dotted it's surface: Humans.

With the development of Humans came another cat deity. Fate had existed since there was a need for someone to decide what should come to pass during the lives of mortals, since the arrogant little fuckers couldn't seem to decide for themselves: at least not responsibly. After the third time a human had attempted to make themselves a God and had a mountain dropped on them for their sheer audacity, Fate decided that s/he should do more than just baby-sit. S/he was going to live on Earth until the miserable little planet burned up when the star it circled imploded in on itself.

Unfortunately for the three deities that valued this little planet: Chaos, Chance and Fate, this planet quickly became the judgment place for the existence of the universe itself. There was another deity, the most powerful one of them all in the lowest rung of deities, that had been put in charge of the universe (which was merely a very fish-bowl-like trinket sitting on his desk in his study near the garden window). His duty was now to decide whether or not this little experiment in existence was worth continuing or if it should be scrapped and started over again with more supervision in the earliest stages of growth.

Earth, he thought, was to be the deciding factor… considering how many deities visited the obscure little ball of dirt and returned talking about how immensely entertaining a place it was. If he saw something there that would prove to him that what little life had somehow managed to form in this little bubble on his desk called the 'universe', then he would allow it to continue developing as it was. If not, he would crush the little sphere of experimental matter in his hand and start all over again.

What he was mostly annoyed with in this matter, was how incredibly like the deities the Earth people were. They were, in essence, miniature mortal versions of them. So much alike them, that many of those in his own home had found pretty little humans and brought them back with them to their realm, Zeus being a prime example. The horny bastard kept changing his mind and going back for more of them, leaving those he had already brought up stuck with their new positions as EXTREMELY minor deities over only one country on Earth.

No matter. If he decided to destroy the tiny bauble, those minor annoyances would simply cease to exist. Including that arrogant youth Hercules. A run-in with the half-mortal always left him feeling irked. Sighing, he stared blankly at the little orb and mentally prepared himself for his trip inside. There was one single solitary city on that little speck of a planet that he wanted to go to, it having been suggested by no less than three of the deities on his level. Agrabah… seemed very small, even for a city on Earth. But that was his destination.

"Are you going?" asked Fate from the doorway.

Fate was an unusual feline to say the least. All male cats were somewhat effeminate, but this one took it to the max. He wore women's clothes and makeup, spoke with a significantly heightened voice purposely, and flirted shamelessly with anyone and everything he came across. He wasn't trying to be feminine at all: that was simply his mannerism. Fate was Fate. Fate wasn't male or female. Fate was simply the only one of the lower deities that knew exactly who he was, even if it confused the definition of WHAT he was.

"Yes. In a moment. Tell me, why that specific city?"

Fate smiled, batting his eyes at the tall, imposing form. "There's a mortal there I believe may interest you. He's half-demon. One of Chaos' little minions sons."

"Hn. I know what you're trying to do, cat. It won't work. I'm not the sort of flighty petty man the others are. A pretty face won't affect my judgment."

"It's not his beauty I think will interest you." Fate purred, walking out with a bit more swing in his tail as usual.

"Hn." He grunted, and then leaned in towards the orb and disappeared.

* * *

In the very center of the gathering hall, a gorgeous man sat alone. The seats surrounding him were vacant, as anyone that came too close to him was overwhelmed with a feeling of immense malice, and chose to move very far away for their own safety. This man was not a man, at least not a mortal one. He was here for one reason only. He had been watching this city's exploits for some time, and had reached a very simple decision regarding his existence judgment. This Sultan Aladdin was an interesting character. He was one of the few mortals he'd observed to have a genuine right to exist, and now he was being tried for his right to command the city he'd saved so many times before.

Simple, but the truest way he could think of to decide. The verdict of this trial of mortals was to be his own. If Aladdin was granted his rights, he would spare the little orb on his desk. If the answer was no, it would be smashed and swept up into the dustbin, forgotten forever.

He tilted his head in interest when he saw the very mortal Fate had described earlier come in and stand to the side of the stage with a Blue Djinn. As far as he knew, this creature was a servant of sorts. Property. So what was he doing HERE?

* * *

First off, Aladdin had never intended something like this to happen. It was dangerous – extremely so – for a slave of ANY rank to directly address any royal for any reason at all, let alone acting as an equal member of the Agrabanian peace committee. But the blood royal of the city of Agrabah had consented, even encouraged the venture… so here he was, all dressed up and looking nervously around him as if expecting attack at any moment. Mozenrath knew what he was doing: he had been a royal once too, after all. He just hadn't spoken in front of a crowd this size in SO LONG… and never on good terms. It's difficult to work with the moods of a crowd when your only experience with them is trying to either piss them off or make them bow to your will. Now he was going to be basically begging them to reconsider their opinions of a man they knew for a fact had raised himself stealing food on the streets. This was a mode of speech he had never before felt the need to attempt, and though the words would follow the usual course and arrangement as his other speeches the atmosphere would have to be controlled instead of killed or stirred up. Making his task considerably more difficult was the fact that he was not permitted to look anyone in the audience in the eye. Quite frankly he was not technically considered a citizen or much more than a pretty decoration, and to do that one had to at the very least be considered human: if he slipped it could cost him his head. It would have been easier to read the audience's reactions to his words were he allowed to actually look at them. He was scared half to death, but he was going to do this come hell or high water. It had taken the Djinn a lot of convincing to get the Sultana to let him do this, and he was going to help Aladdin or die trying.

Mozenrath was going to plead Aladdin's case to the Ambassadors of the Seven Desserts. He had heard that the trials were not going too well, and had steeled himself just long enough to beg the Djinn to help him help his master. He was going to do it to the best of his diplomatic abilities regardless of the danger to his life: and the consequences be damned. Never let it be said that fear isn't a good tool sometimes though. Mozenrath was thinking triple-time, and clever as he was this was going to be a speech the stuffy representatives were NEVER to forget.

Now if only he could ignore his throbbing tail.

He had been dressed for the occasion, tail and ears hidden carefully beneath his clothes. They were all white and lined with light blue satin, the color of Agrabah's royal house. The turban he wore was one of high rank – a further insult to the gathering he was to speak to in less than a few minutes. It had been necessary though, only a rather large turban would have concealed his ears properly without hurting them too much. They were cramped as it was, and having your ears folded flat and covered by a thick bundle of cloth on your head seriously impeded his hearing. True, it was now at a proper human level instead of the advanced hearing of a cat, but it was disorienting. He wasn't used to it. He felt like he had an ear infection – his balance was all off and it hurt to have them so confined for so long.

His tail wasn't much better. It was wound around his waist and held in place by the sash, the bulge where his spine extended into the appendage at the back hidden by his coat. It was terribly uncomfortable to have an appendage used to constant movement trapped tightly underneath so many layers of heavy, scratchy fabric. His muscles kept trying to move it, and when it failed to respond they got angry and answered the tail's refusal to obey with cramping of a sort he'd never had to deal with. His thighs, lower back and bottom were incredibly sore from the revenge his muscles were inflicting upon him for abusing his body so.

As if that weren't bad enough, the Sultana had insisted he wear a few… accessories to mark him as what he was so as not to make the Ambassadors think they were trying to trick them with an actor. On his wrists were thick gold manacles encrusted with semi-precious stones – large enough to be clearly seen from the back of the room. They held an important purpose: to announce to those gathered that though he was indeed a slave, he was a slave of an extremely high rank. One so high as to be close to release from his bondage as one undyingly loyal to his master. The manacles were incredibly heavy and weighed him down. They had been made so quickly for his performance that the insides had not been so carefully sculpted as the outsides and they were pinching and digging into the flesh of his forearms and wrists. On his neck was something similar. A collar made of the same style as the manacles. It was very heavy as well, but not so thick so as to keep movement of his neck down. It was inlaid with shimmery stones that caught the attention of passersby no matter how far away they were. In the center of this collar, right below his chin was a blatant and bright blue stone. It was oval in shape, and had the Royal seal of Agrabah engraved in it as a mark of possession.

This was Jasmine's way of stamping Auset's forehead with an enormous "MINE". Meant for her husband of course. She would not be allowed male slaves until she had provided a minimum of two sons to her city… her own rule as well as her father's. The manacles and collar were not her first idea, but somehow she didn't think Aladdin would appreciate it if she decided to brand his little pet now. He'd been in the palace long enough to be recognized, and branding him would just make her husband mad. Not that she wasn't tempted by the thought, mind you – she would have in an instant if she didn't think she'd be paying for it for the rest of her marital life. Letting go of a grudge isn't easy for a princess, even if she realizes what she's done is wrong.

Making amends is one thing, but stopping the train of thought is a completely different matter. If she couldn't hurt the favored slave, she could at least entertain the idea of it.

His time to speak was getting closer, and Mozenrath took a few deep breaths to prepare himself and calm his nerves. The pain was nearly unbearable – and any other man would have been weeping from it by now. Mozenrath was no normal man. He could take it relatively easily, but not so gracefully as he would like to think.

Weighted down and devoid of his two most effective balancing tools, Mozenrath was swaying ever so slightly, as if he'd had a bit too much to drink before he decided to get up and speak. Luckily for him, he was also way too hot confined to so much clothing, and his face was flushed. The Djinn had simply announced to the gathering that he was feeling ill, and in light of the intense fever they would have to be patient with him. Illness was something they grudgingly understood, and nodded their consent to let him speak in light of his determination to do it regardless of his discomfort. So the pain he was going through ended up helping him anyway.

Mozenrath jumped slightly when the Djinn placed a big blue hand on his shoulder and turned him around to look at his face. Genie 'tsk'ed and fixed a few strands of sweat-soaked hair back inside his turban and wiped his face with a small cloth. Mozenrath was not wearing any face paint, as it was difficult to believe he was Egyptian in the first place because of how pale he was, and it would just have added another factor to deal with if they knew his country of origin. He was panting slightly from the combination of pain, heat and the effort of standing properly with so much weight on his body. The Djinn shook his head and chuckled.

"You really do look like you've come down with a fever." He said, fixing the collar to set straight on Mozenrath's neck. He winced when he saw the impressions it was leaving in his skin.

"Good." Mozenrath sighed. "They'll believe you." He started to go through his notes for the last time, then paused with a frightened look. "What will they think of a slave that knows how to read?" he hissed in a panic.

Genie chuckled again and touched the tip of Mozenrath's nose with his finger. "They'll think we taught you. Relax. You're shaking again."

"I'm terrified." Mozenrath admitted, allowing the Djinn one last moment of preening him before he pulled away. Aladdin had not known about this, and was glaring at them all from his seat on the other side of the room. Not only had Mozenrath not told him what they were up to, he had disobeyed an order and left his room. No doubt his master thought the tricky former sorcerer had something up his sleeve, and in a wild sort of way he was absolutely right. If Aladdin was angry with him he would accept it, but he was NOT going to back down after all the trouble the Djinn and the Sultana had gone through to get him here. But he was still anxious about the cerebral lashing he was getting. "Aladdin looks angry. What if I don't satisfy them?"

"Then you have done all you can. Aladdin will be happy with that. He's just angry that we didn't tell him about all of this beforehand."

"We didn't have time to-…"

"Exactly. He'll understand that, so why are you so worried?"

"And I've left my room."

"That's my problem, not yours. I was ordered to keep you there, you weren't technically ordered to stay."

"-Technically- isn't going to save my hide from a whipping." Mozenrath mumbled, still fussing with his notes. He probably wouldn't need to look at them, but it was good to have them anyway just to feel more secure.

Genie frowned and tipped the feline's chin up to look at him. "You really think Aladdin would do that?"

Mozenrath didn't hesitate for an instant.

"Yes." Seeing the sad expression on the Djinn, he gave a short laugh and took another deep breath. "I shouldn't keep them waiting."

And with that he walked as steadily as he could to the center of the speaking stage, going fluidly down to his knees and into an extremely low bow to show his respect and fear of them before taking his place. Buttering them up first was one way of earning at least a little bit of preemptive indulgence.

The steely eyes of over a hundred Ambassadors burned into his entire body as he rose carefully into a kneel (swaying a little halfway up) and laid his small papers out on the floor in front of him, carefully keeping his eyes cast down to his notes. His position on the social ladder prevented him from standing before the congregation to speak to them… he had to remain on his knees.

Nervousness suddenly hit him. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest, and the heat made him feel faint. The feeling of all those eyes had him shaking, and he had no doubt they could see it. He took yet another deep breath to steady his voice as he could already feel it slipping from him, then tipped his head up slightly so that they could see his face. He was startled by some of the gasps he heard, and cringed a bit. This was followed by a few murmurs of concern. Mozenrath was confused for a moment, then remembered what the Djinn had told them.

They must be reacting to how flushed he was. They really believed he was sick.

'One up for me.' He thought, biting back a smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Genie held up his hand in a staying gesture and the murmuring died off. Mozenrath's time to speak had finally come. And speak he did, immediately his first words were apologies to the gathering for having to put up with his unworthy presence during such important times. Practiced and possessing a small amount of persuasive demon magic, the aristocratically articulate words flowed like honey from his lips. Their attention was instantly caught and held with the desperation of a jackal's teeth on it's prey. Mozenrath would not allow their attention to falter even for an instant, even if he had to use a low profile spell to do it. Though his eyes were cast down, he could FEEL that all eyes were upon him, properly ensnared.

Hopefully the Djinn wouldn't nag him for this later.

Smiling to himself mentally, he began his speech: keeping his voice just coarse enough to be noticed so as to add to the sympathetic atmosphere.

"Lords and Ladies, I realize that you all have more important things to do than listen to the ramblings of one so unworthy as myself, therefore I will do as best I know how to be brief and concise." Perfect… they couldn't be angry with him for taking his time now. He'd claimed ignorance. Anyone here would believe that of a slave. "I humbly beg you all to forgive my brazen intrusion on your trials, and ask your patience should I pause for a moment or so to catch my breath. It is not my intention to be a bother to your schedule with my trivial words."

Apology accepted, he realized. The hairs sticking up on the back of his neck had gone down. If they were still angry with him for being so disrespectful, at the very least they were not planning any real harm to him after he was finished. Still, he was feeling odd prickles in his ears, and let out a bit more of his enchantment to help soothe their anger.

That was when his speech really began. He spoke of himself, never giving his name, as a cruel and heartless ruler under the control of a maniacal teacher. He told them all what had happened to him right down to the names and mannerisms of the traders. He told them about the harem, and the age of the youngest child he'd seen in there: about two. He told them of Velven, and the last battle in the little rooms he used to live in. He held nothing back, he poured his heart out to them with his life's story in a way that he was sure were making the muses themselves weep. He spoke then only of Aladdin, and the kindness the man had shown him even after learning of his previous identity. He never faltered or displayed any signs of stopping his tale until the end, and never noticed the tears he'd been shedding the entire time.

His spell had stopped working less than a minute into his tale, but they were entranced by his story alone. By the time he stopped, everyone save the man in the center of the congregation was in tears themselves.

When he had regained his sense of reality, Mozenrath looked up slightly at the gathering just to get a good look at what he'd done. He was not entirely satisfied. Though his performance had gone off without a hitch, he still felt there were some in the room who didn't believe how sincere he was. He'd had a trump card that he had been holding off on in case of an emergency… and this was the time to use it. As he made his way to the front of the stage to bow in thanks to them, he pretended to faint.

Flawlessly.

Even the Djinn, who had been keeping tabs on the feline's energy levels the entire time, was thoroughly convinced and rushed forward to aid him the instant he saw the impact of his body on the stage floor. Aladdin jumped from his seat and rushed to his side, calling frantically for a doctor. Gasps and even a few screams erupted from the gathering: the sound of chairs skittering across the floor echoing off the walls with frightening intensity.

It was then that Mozenrath knew exactly how good their chances were of this actually working. Playing the ultimate sympathy card would tell him who's hearts he'd altered. Those his speech had truly touched instantly rose from their seats in a panic, worried that he'd been injured from the fall. He could clearly hear the scuffle of every shoe, every chair sliding back as it's occupant rose from their seat to help the fallen servant. In his head he ticked off the numbers with dizzying speed, calculating every ambassador's movements to get a clear picture of the entire room in his mind. Once this picture was in place, Mozenrath surveyed the mental snapshot with infinite relief, as well as a small sense of worry. Of all of them in the room: princes, advisers, and scholars alike: only one present remained in his seat.

That one man was not as moved as the rest of them, however he was amazed and thoughtful. Reading the minds of those around him told him that the decision had been made – Aladdin would be granted his rights. He should have just left then, but he found that he couldn't. Fate had been right… he wanted a closer look at this little creature. After all… he'd always had a strange affinity for cats.


	17. Oh My God

Mozenrath carefully made his way out to the garden, trying not to limp noticeably. The Ambassadors had all gone to bed after the trials, and Mozenrath had been sent to his rooms to await the verdict after his little performance. He was overjoyed to hear that Aladdin had been granted his full Royal rights, and that he had been a part of it. Nothing could possibly have ruined his elation, not even the whipping that he had been positive from the start he would receive for his actions. Aladdin had not been cruel, but he had left many purpling lashes that would burn for hours on end because of the powerful yet shallow strikes. Mozenrath was not upset for it though – he had been punished for putting himself in danger in order to help his Master. It had been more than worth it, and still would have been no matter how severe his reprimand had been.

Still… he had been forced to calm the Djinn. Genie was furious at Aladdin for whipping Mozenrath, no matter why he had done it. Their shouting war would go down in legend to the servants of the Palace, the finale of which was when the Djinn snatched his Lamp away from the Sultan and declared, as a free Djinn, that Aladdin was no longer allowed to carry it. Mozenrath had the Lamp with him, as Genie was at considerable odds with the Sultana over her treatment of 'Auset' as well. Mozenrath frowned; he could still feel the anger bleeding out of the spout, thick as molasses and just as strong.

"Calm, my friend." He whispered to the Djinn, rubbing his thumb over the lid of the vessel. The feeling weakened minutely, and Mozenrath smiled. "Aladdin was right to be angry with me, and what's done is done. Surely you're at least satisfied that we achieved our goal? Agrabah has its rightful Sultan now." Another emotion filtered through the Lamp to Mozenrath – grudging admittance. Mozenrath chuckled, still unsure of when the Djinn would actually come out of his Lamp, but happy that at the very least the fight was out of the way and settled.

He smiled, stopping at the garden gate to loosen his sash, being gentle with the knot as it was tied close to his lashing wounds. He had been unable to relieve his feline appendages as of yet, and dreaded the pain he would be in if he left them tucked away any longer. His tail burst free, twitching angrily and coiling tightly into a very uncomfortable muscle spasm. Mozenrath groaned and had to use both his hands to pull the clenched muscles out of their impossible grip on each other. He whimpered when blood began flowing back into the appendage and it began to tingle painfully as it once again became active. He couldn't stop it from flicking to and fro with vicious force, and had to lift the Lamp free of his waist to keep it from getting knocked away from him completely.

Genie emerged and sighed, pulling Mozenrath into a gentle hug. Mozenrath, shocked that it had happened so soon, flushed a bit and leaned closer to him so that the blue arms wouldn't brush his sore back so much. The magic felt like heaven on his skin, and he relished the sensation of it as long as he would be allowed. Genie shook his head and lifted the turban from Mozenrath's ears, wincing when the cat keened in pain.

"Your tolerance for callous treatment astounds even me." The Djinn admitted, still providing the slave with a bit of power to keep his senses sane after so long without the use of magic. "How can you not be mad at Aladdin?" he mused, trying his best to gently rub the pain out of Mozenrath's ears.

"Because it is not my place… and he has done nothing worthy of anger from me. True, he whipped me, but it was deserved. I DID leave my rooms after being given an order… and don't try to place the blame on yourself again. I heard the order, even if it was not directed at me. You knew that excuse was not likely to work anyway." Mozenrath tried his best to sound glib, but he couldn't help but purr. Skin on skin contact with the Djinn was pure bliss… the energy was actually making tiny sparks from the transfer. They had only done this twice as far as Mozenrath knew, and he couldn't get enough of the feeling. Not only that, but it had been a long time since anyone had paid so much attention to his ears.

"He still didn't have to be so mean about it." The Djinn hissed.

Mozenrath nodded slightly in agreement – Aladdin had lain into him pretty hard, not to mention the verbal assault he had suffered as well. "Still, you know he was frightened when I fell. You saw it didn't you? The way his face was? I don't think it's possible that he was terribly angry with me… I think he feels betrayed because we didn't tell him what we were up to. I know it wasn't possible, and he knows that, but it must have made his heart stop to see me fall. What would you have done had the trick been played without your knowledge?"

Genie was caught there. "I don't know… but I don't think I would have whipped you."

"Me neither." Mozenrath purred, nuzzling into the Djinn's chest. "This feels so familiar… how many times have we done this?" he questioned, his instincts telling him that something in his memory may be amiss.

"Twice." Genie stated, leaving no room for argument. Mozenrath let it alone, shrugging his consent to drop the subject. "You should sleep. You've had an incredibly rough day."

"I will," Mozenrath promised, "After just a little time near the fountain. I like the sound of the water, and the moonlight is pretty tonight."

Genie laughed shortly, pulling away, ignoring the whimper Mozenrath displayed when they lost contact. "Okay… just don't chase the fish."

"Hey!" Mozenrath retorted, just as Genie disappeared inside the Lamp to rest himself. "That wasn't funny…" he mumbled, trying his best not to smile. Just before entering the garden fully, Mozenrath sensed the presence that had been following him since the assembly let out, and put his appendages back under his clothing.

The deity watched him as he strode over to the fountain and settled on the edge, stretching languidly. The slave is so beautiful, he can't help but follow him. In fact, he'd been watching him closely since the trial earlier that day. It was very frustrating the way he'd had to stay hidden,. as he sorely wanted to speak to the one dubbed 'Auset', known to previously have been Mozenrath, but it was no matter now. This boy was obviously no fool and had noticed early on the stalking cast his way, so he'd made sure to be in the company of others until just now, for protection or witnesses.

Mozenrath stretches again, reaching up toward the stars and giving the man a very nice view of his figure. He stays in the shadows to watch him, wondering what else he will be allowed to see before he is caught. Mozenrath reaches up to remove his turban, and the man waits with bated breath to see just how long that curly midnight hair is. Mozenrath drops the hat to the ground. It isn't the waist-long shimmering curls that have the man transfixed, but the ears. It was one thing to have cat ears, but pierced ones were rare. They twitch in angry discomfort after their long confinement, obviously pained. Mozenrath stretches out his ears, moving them this way and that, pushing them back against his head and bringing them up again in an exercise to relieve them. He goes through several rounds of this before letting out a relieved sigh.

An apple falls out of a nearby tree and Mozenrath glances nervously around the garden. Perhaps he is aware of the man's presence, after all. Suddenly he feels very guilty for watching him unaware, though not nearly guilty enough to make him leave... this is far too interesting. After a few tortuously slow moments Mozenrath seems satisfied that he is alone, and begins to unwrap his sash. He sets it beside him and looks around again. He hisses in pain as the furry appendage uncurls, stiff and sore from it's cruel imprisonment. He slowly lets the tail bend the other way, then takes it into his lap and begins stroking it from base to tip. Even the deity winces in sympathy, imagining how that must feel. Mozenrath continues soothing his tail for at least a quarter of an hour before he yet again does something unexpected. He begins to sing. Humming the tune at first to warm up, then letting the words roll off his tongue with all the perfection and emotion of a muse. The man feels his eyes water at the sad melody, though he cannot tell what the words mean as they are a language he's never encountered before. A deity he may be, but not one particularly interested in the gibberish these humans speak. A tear falls onto his hand, and he knows it must be a tragic song indeed. Four verses later Mozenrath's voice begins to fade and he holds the last note six beats before he lets it die gracefully.

The man wipes the tears from his eyes and sighs, the latter is a bit too loud and the object of his desire catches the sound easily. Mozenrath jumps in fright, does a rather lovely 180 rotation in the air and lands on both feet and hands, crouching low to the ground. He faces the deity, fangs bared and eyes glowing bright green.

He chuckles, stepping out of the shadows and bowing courteously. He'll admit when he's been caught. Besides, Mozenrath doesn't seem to be angry rather than very startled. When the man looks up again the feline is wrapping the sash back around his waist hastily, tying it in a knot he'll have to fight to dislodge later. He hisses threateningly as the man steps forward, the hiss developing into a low growl when he gets within twenty paces. Here Mozenrath begins to back away and the man stops in his advance, not wanting to scare the interesting little creature off.

Being so close it was easy to tell that he was at least a full head taller them Mozenrath, even with the cat crouching against the wall defensively.

It is amazingly easy to tell what Mozenrath is feeling, however he can't quite grasp the full extent of it. It is impossible for any other than a cat to fully comprehend the verbal meaning of the incredibly subtle twitches of ears and tail, though nearly every species understands the basic message. And at the moment, this particular cat is very, very upset with him. Smiling, he bows again and offers my hand in greeting without a word. Mozenrath stares, apparently confused.

And the deity can't help it: he laughs.

"Come, now! Surely you're not too upset with me? I meant no harm, I assure you. Will you accept my apology?" he finishes with a smile, still offering his hand to the cringing slave.

Mozenrath tilts his head to the side. "How long were you watching me?"

Without hesitation the deity responds, smiling. He hadn't believed Zeus when he'd said these creatures were cute, but now he could not argue. "Since you entered the garden. I hope you'll forgive me for startling you, but I was quite reluctant to interrupt your song. Words cannot describe the beauty of your voice. I daresay, you had me hypnotized." He finishes speaking with a hand over his heart to emphasize the words - well, where a human's heart would be at the very least.

Mozenrath blushes and averts his eyes, thankfully not from anger. "I did not begin my song for quite some time, Ambassador." he states in a strange voice. He is obviously embarrassed, but there seems to be an underlying tightness to his tone that implies a degree of cautiousness. Curious, the diety steps forward... and Mozenrath attempts to step back, having forgotten that he was already pressed to a wall.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asks, and watches carefully for the response. He don't have to wait long.

Mozenrath lifts his head and makes direct eye contact, something he is forbidden to do by station, and his ears flatten completely. "Why are you following me?"

Oh yes. That is definitely fear. And he's apparently decided to defend himself. His tail twitches impatiently as he waits for the answer. How to respond without frightening him further? He thinks it over carefully, noting with great amusement that the growling has started again, though it sounds more internal than directed at him. Angry at himself for allowing this situation to arise most likely. Mozenrath is trapped and he knows it.

Enthralled with the prospect of a little game, the deity answers Mozenrath's question with another question. "Why are you avoiding me?" The smile and playful tone do nothing to calm him. Mozenrath drops his gaze, knowing that he cannot insult the Ambassador openly. He calculates his reply desperately, and the deity notes with a twinge of anger that he can tell the slave has already been beaten once that night - even after his loving speech for his master, Aladdin, and can't help but expect to be beaten again regardless of his answer to the visitor to his master's kingdom.

"I... I am not accustomed to so much," he pauses, "attention. It unnerves me. Most often, when one wishes to speak to a slave, they are courteous enough to ask their master's permission first..."

"You believe I am not courteous?" He asks, knowing that would frighten the feline. He watches with detached amusement as his ears fell at the accusation. He shifts uncomfortably, delaying the answer. The deity takes another step toward him and his reaction is like lightning. He springs from the ground in front of the man to the top of the fountain nearby, rests for only a second on a broken spout by the very tip of his toes then springs up and flips to land gracefully on the other side. The Ambassador lifts an eyebrow at him quizzically, though he know very well why Mozenrath is determined to keep his distance. Undoubtedly he could sense the power of the being, however well hidden it may be. Some kinds of power cannot be hidden from another, and at the very least Mozenrath should be able to sense elemental abilities to a strength he had never before encountered.

"What do you want from me?" Mozenrath quests nervously.

The deity grins, noting the clever change of subject. "I would be immeasurably grateful for a chance to examine your ears and tail. They do fascinate me so, and I would rather not have to chase you around the garden to achieve it."

Mozenrath suddenly pales and grasps his tail in his hands, backing away and looking for all the world like a rather large dog was closing in on him. "Forgive me, Ambassador, but my tail has been pulled and twisted so often that I'm amazed it is still attached to me. Believe me when I say I mean no disrespect, however I fear I am unable to grant your request." He finishes with a slight waver in his tone and he lowers his eyes again. Even in the dull light, it is quite obvious the cat is trembling.

He takes another step closer, and Mozenrath skitters directly behind the fountain so that even seeing him would be a problem. Perhaps he planned to escape? "Your ears then, or are you simply too shy to let me touch you?"

"I don't... I mean, It's not that..." he stutters rather cutely, still keeping as firm a hold on his furiously twitching tail as possible without aggravating the sore muscles. "I'm just uncomfortable with the idea. I've only just met you. How do I know you won't mistreat my tail?"

"Stubborn little thing, aren't you?" he laughs.

Mozenrath's eyes widen and shine bright with terror in the moonlight reflecting off the fountain. He backs away purposefully, as if the man had drawn his sword and have it pointed at his heart. He releases his tail, which lodges itself around his right thigh submissively. Putting his hands on the rim of the fountain, Mozenrath bows. "Is something the matter?" he asks, alarmed at the sudden change.

"Please... I mean no disrespect to you. I beg you not to tell my Master I was being so insolent to one of his honored guests..." His voice is soft and wavering, and the deity sighs.

"I will not. You have been beaten wrongfully once tonight, and I swear to you it will not happen again so long as I am here." Mozenrath nods, not having the courage to look up again. In an effort to sooth him, the deity decides to introduce himself. "I am Anu. Is there anything you wish to say to me? There is no need to hold your tongue... My country has outlawed slavery, so you are in no more danger with me than you would be in my own land."

Mozenrath's head rises tentatively at that proclamation, and his ears raise. Courage perked, he stands, though shakily, and looks at the Ambassador. "Please do not be angry... but... You claim, Ambassador, that you were following me because you found interest in my… accessories. Yet I am fairly positive you were completely unaware of them until you saw me release them moments ago. Therefore it is impossible you were tracking me earlier in the day for this purpose. If I am too bold in asking then I will accept any forthcoming punishment, but I demand to know why you were so interested in me before you saw me here."

He waits uncertainly for his answer, fidgeting slightly. Anu observes him for a few moments, contemplating him. He must think he's gone too far and earned a beating. Closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself, he then smiles and throws the cat another curve ball. "I will answer your question if you answer mine." He offers cheerfully.

Mozenrath flinches. "Yes..?"

"What is your name?"

He gasps lightly, then after a brief moment's hesitation, stutters it out in a whisper. "Auset..."

"Auset..." Anu rolls the name around his tongue like a sweet confectionery, then smiles. "I was following you because I find you very beautiful and intelligent, and was hoping I would be able to convince you to join me for dinner tomorrow."

Mozenrath opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. He closes it quickly, then swallows. He really doesn't want to be alone with this man but it would be rude to say no, especially after how respectful and tolerant he had been with him.

"I... I will ask my Master..." he stammers uncertainly.

"Good." Anu says, then disappears in a flurry of sparkles.

Mozenrath stares at the spot... believing he'd just promised his time to a very powerful and influential sorcerer. "Oh... balls..." he muttered, palming his face. He hoped devoutly that Aladdin wouldn't be too angry with him when he asked... he didn't think he could handle being punished twice in the same night.


End file.
